


Goddess Among Men

by Queenofthemorgue



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-10 19:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 79,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11698881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthemorgue/pseuds/Queenofthemorgue
Summary: He gave her so much sorrow, but Meg would take every minute of sorrow for every moment of pure love he gave her. How could either of them ever imagine they'd find another soul as lonely as the other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly ALW! Phantom but book themes are weaved through!

Madame Giry, had always made sure to clarify to her daughter that the "Phantom" was only a man, simple and plain, but with the mind of a genius. He… whoever, whatever he was, could do absolutely anything and everything he wanted. The man, a child in a way, was stubborn, hurt, and ready to kill whenever he saw fit. Meg had been the ballet rat who spread the tall tale, that he was a ghost, someone who once was. Now that spirit haunts the grand Opera Populaire, and plays tricks on it's many inhabitants. Meg made up those stories to protect someone she'd never met, but knew for a fact existed. Maman, unfortunately, never let her forget it.

There was only one night that Meg Giry was actually afraid of this so called Opera Ghost. That fateful night, the night she knew the sickening crack high above her head was due to the anonymous man. In her terror the blonde bolted for the roof. Meg had no inclination as to why she chose the roof, but that is where her talented, trained feet were taking her. Taking the long staircase up, Meg never noticed the couple behind her, nor did they even attempt to see her. Swinging the heavy door open and only stopping when she was at the corner of the roof. Fortunately for her she was accidentally hidden behind a large statue. Not even the warm summer air could calm her. In her attempt to calm herself, the couple bolted through the door on their own.

"Why have you brought me here" said Le Vicomte. Without hearing another word, Meg felt one hand on her throat. Holding with a pressure that dared her to scream, The other clamped over her mouth. The owner of these hands had their entire body flush to hers. Keeping them still, so that neither would be seen by Christine professing her plight, and Raoul who wasn't trained in the art of comforting just yet.

So they stood, one listening, the other with a humming noise in her head. Megs eyes focused on nothing in particular. After what felt like an eternity for the two behind the statue, the other, happily in love couple finally fled back down to the stage so that the show could finally begin again.

The Opera Ghost, now shown to Meg in full moonlight, left her figure to flee to another corner of the roof. Megs eyes never moved, they were trained on the expansive line of buildings front of her. The city of Paris was glittering in the warmth of a late June night, but it was a blur in her eyesight. The lights were mesmerizing, her senses were barely employed, she couldn't hear anything but her heart thumping. Meg could barely see, but she felt the warm wind passing over her body as she moved toward the door. Along the way she collapsed on her knees.

When he was done and ready to leave, he turned from Apollo in rage, Seeing what he never thought he would. The figure of Marguerite was illuminated in the moonlight. She was absolutely… Unsettling. Staring forward on her knees, eyes glazed over and wide, breathing heavily. The Sylvan Glade costume was pooled around her. The ballet woman's daughter was like nothing he'd ever seen.

"And what do you think you are doing here" he said without thinking. Giry turned her head slowly in his direction "Hmm?" She still couldn't focus on anything, It was all too much, too much. When she looked at his seething frame, most of her composure had returned. He expected her to tremble at his harsh tone, but she was still trying to comprehend what he was saying. Her unaffected reaction caused the heart broken man to grab hold of Meg's arm, hoisting her up. His body was radiating with anger.

"You will leave. Now." A slow dazed response came in the form of

"Gladly." The numbness went away, she could feel his hand like electricity. It was different and cold. Walking away toward the door, her arm slid out of this grasp slowly "The show must have begun again." Then she disappeared down the stairs, Ghostly like himself.

Meg didn't know it, but there was a light bruise on the way to her neck. Thankfully no one cared enough to notice. In all her true talent, she surely became a wallflower when she wanted to. So she danced Il Muto, and took her bow. Meg snuck away from the after show chaos, and screaming patrons who had completely forgotten about poor, unfortunate Bouquet. After Christine's second great triumph, no one cared for the unlucky stagehand. Luckily enough for the managers, the fatality that night was just a stagehand. They would never be able to live through injuring, or god forbid, the murder of an incredibly rich patron in the so-called "Accident!" With hardly anyone noticing, to her room the dancer feld.

Meg once decided that she wanted her room to be as far from her mother as possible. Their relationship wasn't picturesque, it wasn't horrible, but they were never close. They kept a normal ballet-mistress, ballet-girl relationship, and outside of work they hardly saw each other except for the occasional meal. When she was younger they were quite close, mostly because Meg kept to herself, and hung on her mother's skirts. When Christine came to the opera, Meg flourished, the two young girls became so close and were almost never seen alone. Meg became a butterfly, and Christine happily followed. Meg reflected on her relationship with both women as she made the long walk to her room.

All of the ballet girls were scattered in good sized rooms. When Meg was allowed to move into one of her own, away from her mother. Meg quickly found one and claimed it for herself, and kept it that way until Christine was admitted into the opera. Meg and Christine shared that room on the far end of the opera house, two levels between them and the ballet mistress. Christine had moved to her own room down the hall a year or so before, then left the hall for a dressing room near the stage.

Other girls their age in the corps have been leaving as the troop as a whole grew older. Some marry, most move on to more scandalous endeavors, some become too scared of the ghoul who wreaks havoc on every department of the opera. The younger girls were forced to stay in rooms much closer to Madame Giry. As older members of the corps continued to leave, the upper halls became scarce, and now there was a few rooms between Meg and anyone else.

Making her way to her door on the far end of the hall, Meg unlocked the door that led to the lodging that became her sanctuary since Christine's first great triumph. Locking the door behind her, She dropped the pointe shoes that were slung over her shoulder, now dirty from running all around the opera, on a little table by the door. Meg slowly made her way to the vanity, pulled her hair from the secure ties, and draped the accenting ribbons over a peg attached to the large mirror. Meg sat in relief and began to brush the ends of her hair that was like a curtain of blonde waves shielding her away from the world. Meg loved her hair, and kept it down unless she really had to put it up, for performances.

She avoided looking in the mirror, but Meg knew her stage makeup was a mess from the tears and she ached to remove it, or it would wreak havoc on her well-kept complexion. So she then reached for her cold cream, and removed the makeup, only looking at her reflection to make sure she went over every part of her face. She reached for her bowl and pitcher, pouring the water into the bowl she took a washcloth and wiped the makeup and cream away. She looked back up to the mirror only to find the bruises, now fully formed, dark and blue.

With a little gasp, Meg couldn't help but bring her hand to line up with the large finger marks. Another little gasp came from her when a little jolt of pain came from the marks. She held her gaze on her neck for a while as she inspected the spots that came from the Opera Ghost himself. After a while of staring at herself, a movement caught her eye in the mirror. The so called Ghost she'd previously met now stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back, and his expression much too smug for her liking. She wanted to scream in fear, but that's what he wanted, so she kept what little composure she could. Keeping her eyes glued to his in the mirror, she gave a light laugh to disguise her fear.

"Come to finish what you started?" She spun around on the stool to face him, raising her head to the ceiling to show her neck. Keeping her eyes on him, she saw the intimidating man shift uncomfortably. This was the second time that anyone had ever unsettled the ghost the way Marguerite had. The Phantom stood in shocked silence.

"Yes?" Meg gave an exasperated sigh when she received no answer. Turning back to her dressing table to put everything back into place from when she made it a wreck before the show. It was therapeutic for Meg to put on her makeup, and equally as therapeutic for her to put back all of the products she moved.

"Yes. In a way." She hadn't noticed how close he became until he grabbed her waist, while placing one of his hand over her mouth. Within a few moments of struggle her world became dark, and the struggle was over.


	2. Chapter 2

Down below, a lake with a surface like a pitch black marble lapped against the most curious of structures. In the fifth cellar of the opera house, in a home that would be considered the height of Victorian Gothic design, Meg Giry gained consciousness little by little. She woke to the sound of light scales at an instrument she assumed was a piano or organ. The very first thing she actually felt was the was the velvet wrapped arms of a large, throne like chair, Then bounds at the wrist. Her limbs were yearning for movement, Meg made an attempt to move her legs. She was fortunate enough that there was no bounds. Eyes still closed, she moved her head to the other side, a little sound came from the ache in her muscles. 

“Ah! You’re awake.” The Phantom yelled in an exaggerated voice, amplified ten times by the pounding in her head. Shifting to show her discomfort, Meg was still bewildered at her situation. Somehow she gathered the strength to ask the first coherent thought that came to her mind.

“Where am I?” She felt hungover. Of course she had wine at dinner, but the first time she drank to a hungover state was with the older ballet girls. She was just 15, Meg and Christine had to stay in bed for hours, thankfully it was an off day for corps, or they would be in a world of trouble with the ever-so-strict ballet mistress also known as mother. That morning the two were in a dreadful state, moaning and complaining about the pain in their heads, and barely moving throughout the day. The older ballet girls who had grown to hold their drink had to bring them provisions, and coach the sad set out of their situation. Somehow at this moment Meg felt considerably worse than that ghastly morning.

“Beneath the opera house.” He sounded so cold, why would he bring her here? It was assumed that he lived in the bellows, but no one dared to explore, or when they did explore far enough they either didn't come back or were run off before reaching the fourth cellar. 

“Why?” It was obvious that he was angry.

“You will be very beneficial for me.” His answer didn’t really give her any more information, after a long pause “You are Christine’s friend, She’ll do what I say to save you.” Then he began a leisurely pace from one end of the drawing room to the other, passing her every so often. His words somehow made her feel the bitterness she only felt when she was alone on the sidelines while Christine spoke to fellow soloists. She couldn’t help it, Meg has never held a grudge against Christine, it just hurt every so often. Panic began to set in, a light, pained laugh came from the blonde.

“I wouldn’t be to sure of that monsieur.” Stopping in his tracks, changing the subject she continued. “If your plan works, then what? You can’t make her love you. She might do what you want her too... but she will always… resent you for it.” Meg managed to get out between labored breaths, her body began to shake. Meg silently thanked the fact that he was becoming too angry to pay attention to her. Her heart was pounding in her chest, she almost couldn’t hear his grumbles in fury. 

“You don’t know that.” He finally yelled.

“Christine is her own woman! She controls her own life!” Pausing to take a few more labored breaths. “But she will do what she has to to save the neck of another, especially when she thinks it’s her fault. Trust me, I know... You even said yourself that I am her friend.” Meg would later curse herself for being so stubborn. 

She still felt awful, and her body's reaction to her fear didn’t help. The blonde finally opened her eyes, only to shut them tight. The soft candle light was still too bright. Eventually her eyes adjusted in the time that neither spoke. This combined with the burning in her chest, made Meg feel the way she would never admit. She was panicking, she wasn’t in control, she only felt this way a very few times, but when she did she’d be damned if she admitted it to anyone.

“Will this feeling go away?” Even though he would never know the extent of her feelings.

“Yes.” After a very long half hour of her silence and his slamming on doors and the instrument, Meg finally spoke again. 

“Are you going to let me go?”

“If she agrees to do what I say. We will be happy... I will make sure of it.” He sounded so hopeful and wounded. Without a second thought, she decided to send another blow.

“Please Monsieur… Stop this! She loves the Vicomte, they've been in love since they were very young, too young to know what love is. When the Vicomte came to christen the Opera after the new managers took over, the reconnected. I’ve seen them interact, they trust each other.” Meg knew it, they were designed for each other. Christine spoke very little of Raoul before he came, but when she did, her eyes would light up in a way they only ever did when she spoke of her father. Two halves, brought back together.

Meg looked at the man she now knew wholeheartedly, was the Phantom, and Christine's angel of music. As she did so, the seething ghost threw his hands around either side of her head. Meg lifted her head in fear, her eyes widened at first, then settled into slits filled with resentment. The two were quite a dramatic sight. Here they were, face to face, ready to claw at each others skin. Meg would’ve fought if she could, but she was still bound, and too weak to move more than a few inches. Ever so slowly he settled into an even more devious expression, and taking his time, he steadily snarled.

“Do you have a death-wish?”

“No. Just stubborn.” With a growl, he cut her bounds in two, swift motions. He began to walk the beautiful instrument, when he did she slumped in the throne. When he made it to the bench, the desperate fellow started a sardonic, angry melody. The melody moved in an expected pattern, and as he added a deep bass line, the pattern became erratic, coming back home, then exploring the neighboring properties of sound. Both lines complex, and ethereal. Unlike anything the blonde heard in her entire life, even though she was born and raised in an opera house. 

“You are dramatic, Monsieur.” Meg said as she turned her head to face him. She took a moment to watch him, His jaw was clenched. While his hands played the piece so naturally, even in such a state. “If you are going to keep me here, could you at least tell me what to call you... Monsieur.” 

“Erik.” It was a slip of the tongue, he would curse himself for telling her later.

“Really?” Meg couldn’t help her overexcited response.

“You really are a nasty little chit.”

“I.. I was just shocked you actually told me, Monsieur Le Phantom.” He just grunted in return. Erik, the name was strange for her to know. How many people knew as well? With a laugh, Meg began to bother him once more.

“Do you regret picking me as bait yet? I’m certain nobody even knows I’m gone yet.” Now the good little student in her became anxious. “What time is it?” She almost yelled at him. He turned to the timepiece above the mantel. 

“Nine o’clock exactly.” Knowing the time, somehow, made her feel worse. It solidified the fact that she was gone long enough for someone to notice. Now she must hope for someone, who she could only guess would be Christine. To come along and sort this situation out. After a long, silent pause, she spoke. 

“How will Christine know that she has to choose?”

“I sent a note to our dear, incompetent managers.” Fabulous. She was going to be in there for awhile. The new managers hardly ever came to the opera before the afternoon.

He was brooding, and seemed to not care that she was even there. Meg proceeded to sit on the throne and began to look around the lush home. Velvet, gold, ebony, and other alluring materials cloaked the room, everything was fit for a king. Eriks home really was beautiful, The room was a long rectangle. Halfway through a long side of the shape, a large set of solid, stained double French doors.

One of the doors was propped open, exposing the slow lapping body of water. Opposite the door, to the left side of the wall the fireplace crackled slightly. In Front of the mantle, a tufted couch and chairs circled around the fixture, enclosing the circle sat the throne Meg occupied. On the right side of the wall opposite the double doors, fixed on the wall sat the opulent instrument he played.

A corner was taken off of the rectangle next to the instrument, a little set of steps lead to a few rooms illuminated by gas lamps. Along the hall of rooms, on the main level, ran another skinny hall parallel to the double doors, leading to what Meg couldn’t see, but assumed was a dark abyss or rooms. Every wall was covered in a deep burgundy wallpaper with a splendid pattern, and the lower 3 feet of the wall showed a dark, carved ebony runner. Matching ebony crowning adorned the ceiling.

Meg knew she had to convince him to take her upstairs, before she could get in anymore trouble for missing morning class. She decided to test her legs, she gained most of her strength when her poor nerves settled. The situation truly took a better turn, Meg hoped she talked at least some sense into the being that was hurting her friend. She slowly stood up, and walked at a very slow pace, stopping to hold onto one of the end tables she passed for a few moments. She finally reached the bench he occupied as he scribbled at his music. Megs body began to shake with fatigue as she sat down. He stayed silent, but glanced at her curious form every once in awhile.

“If you take me back to my room, you can get the letter back. Then we can both act like this never happened.” 

“Alright.” He made to get up, Meg panicked, grabbed his sleeve to bring him back down.

“Wait!” Meg paused she didn’t know what to say, she wanted to see this masked figure again, but how? Thinking quickly, she added “You’re her angel, the one who teaches her music? Right?” 

“I am.” He kept shocking her, he was a man full of secrets, yet he was answering all of her questions. He was full of wonder. Both sat in awkward silence, staring at anything but the other. 

“Why do you ask?”

"I don't know how you could lie to her like that, don't you feel sorry?" He actively ignored her.

"Come. I will take you up." She stood after she quietly thanked him, but as soon as she stood on her own two feet the room blurred and she collapsed into unconsciousness once again.


	3. Chapter 3 - July 1, 1880

Meg woke once again some time later, this time with start. Panic filled her body until she noticed the familiar ceiling of her bedroom. Turning to the clock on her nightstand it had been a few hours after she woke up in the lair. 

Throwing on her rehearsal garb, complete with shawl and fluffy skirts, she slung her rehearsal pointe shoes over her shoulders. After quickly fixing her hair, Meg ran from her room, bolting down the hall and down a few sets of stairs. About halfway to the second cellar rehearsal room, Meg had to collapse at the top of another set of stairs. Feeling light headed, weak, and out of breath. She sat on the top stair, Meg hung her hands on the rail, shoving her head on the crook of her elbows for support. 

She waited for her breath to even out, when it finally did she heard a few voices coming up from some stairs below. In a hurry to seem normal, Meg shot up, thankfully she stayed up. Slowly she made her way down the stairs again. Meg met Cecile Jammes, and Brigette Divisme, another fidgety ballet rat. This meant rehearsal was truly over, when both were traveling to their shared room.

“Meg!” They both screamed when they noticed the pitiful dancer, leaning against the railing

“Where have you been? Madame Giry almost threw a fit over your absence. We covered for you, we said you were ill.” 

“Really?” She was shocked that they did that for her.

“Yes, we knew what ever was keeping you was important. You never miss rehearsal, unless your maman dragged you back to your room!” Which had only happened four times in her career. 

“Thank you very much, I owe you! where is Madame Giry?” 

“She was called to the new manager's office after class. She should be there. Class just ended” Meg began to panic, and sway a little.

“Meg are you alright? You look ready to faint.” They reached for her arms. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for everything.” She worked her way down to the managers level. Passing many corps members, with a look that silently said “Please don’t talk to me” Meg reached the manager's door just as Madame Giry opened the door.

“Meg! There you are, are you alright?” Her mother’s hat was on immediately. Meg loved that she seemed to really care, she wanted to savor it, but she had to be serious.

“I’m sorry. I was indisposed, please forgive me for missing class without warning!” Meg kept her head down, to possibly keep attention away from her neck, and avoided her mother's eyes. “May I go to the room and rehearse privately?”

“Yes you may. Don’t over work yourself love, we need you.” Madame Giry was worried, her daughters already rosy cheeks were a peculiar shade of scarlet. Of course she noticed the bruises, she had noticed just after she returned to the stage. Madame Giry never got to investigate, but she had a pretty good idea as to the reason why. Sometime when Meg had disappeared, she had met the Phantom, and met an angry fate.

Turning away the anxiety Meg felt over the letter fell away, her steps became lighter as she made her way down. Meg entered the empty room, and began light exercises and worked on her steps. Dancing made her the calmest she’s ever felt. It was her, the movements, and intense emotions. In this state she was a star, and no one could deny it, Not even the oh-so-critical Phantom. Her movements sped up with excitement, all for her to collapse at the height of her silent piece. Meg collapsed in a heap, breathing heavily, and staring at herself in the large mirrors when she heard a voice.

“Don’t over do it. I realize now I might have given you a little too much.” Meg knew it was useless to look around for the source of the voice.

“Thank you for returning me to my room. I notice you got the letter.” 

“Yes. It was untouched.” He appeared out of nowhere and help the dancer back on her feet, much gentler than the previous night on the roof. After he noticed the parallel of these two events, his eyes fixated on the bruises.

“Thank you.” She whispered under his scrutiny. They stood, with his hands on her arms for a few, long moments. She leaned into him unintentionally as he took his hands away. Like her body could only be a few inches away from him at a time, when he moved a way she was supposed to go with him. Composing herself, she drew back before it was completely noticeable. She felt drawn to him, There was no reason to be, she should be repulsed. He kidnapped her and manipulated her best friend, murdered, and manipulated his way through his years. After he turned away and took a few steps, Meg knew she had to find away to see him again. He was too magnetic to let him go.

“Could I… possibly… visit you?” He turned around very quickly, and looked at the girl as though she told him a riddle. “I mean, It has… become very boring around here for me without Christine.” It seem like an eternity before he finally replied.

“Yes.” He turned away again, but turned back to say “But leave a note for me in my box, Don’t go down to the cellars alone. It’s too dangerous, you’ll be dead before you get to the fifth cellar.” Meg was thoroughly surprised he replied, she was too stunned to reply. “Alright?” Meg just shook her head. He turned away, performing some act of wonder, her eye was drawn to another side of the room, and in her shock, he disappeared. Leaving her alone once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously posted on Tumblr as a teaser, now with the surrounding story.

Locking the door behind her, Christine Daae left the home of her guardian, who insisted upon being called the affectionate name of Mama Valerius. Mama adored Christine and her father like family, they eventually became family in her and her husbands eyes. Christine left with a light heart, Mama was the best person in her life, she was her mother figure, nothing could replace her. In the corner of her eye Christine saw the Vicomtes coach, her heart leapt at the thought of seeing her love. Christine took matters of the heart very, very seriously. 

Raoul, Le Vicomte de Chagny was a man in head over heels with the young soubrette. The couple's first encounter in Perros-Guirec was the turning point in their lives. Raoul was fourteen, while Christine was the tender age of twelve, the little couple told stories, played games, she sung, her father played while attempting to teach Raoul to play. Raoul caught on the the instrument quite well, when he paid attention. The most important thing about the time in that beautiful seaside town, was the fact that Christine's father, her entire world, approved of Raoul.

Christine searched for Raoul's eyes in the carriage, when they finally met, Raoul pounded at the roof so the driver would stop. Fumbling with the door Raoul made his way to Christine beaming from ear to ear. Little did Raoul know that Christine had just gotten Mama Valerius to bless their secret engagement. It wasn’t hard for Mama to do, Christine talked about Raoul in way she only had when she spoke of her father. Even without her blessing, they would wed, but Christine appreciated it with all her heart. Kissing both of her hands, Raoul spoke in his confident Naval officer's voice.

“And who is this fine lady walking on this fine street, on this fine day?” Christine giggled the way she used to when Meg would tell ghost stories she’d heard over a hundred times.

“Oh Raoul, you tease me so!”

“I do what I must darling. Come! We go to lunch!” Almost in the exact form he spoke to her the night of her debut. A twinge of anger and fear hit her chest, but was soon replaced with the feeling of pure light at the sight of Raouls dazzling smile.

“Oh course! I was just going to grab something on my way to the opera.” Christine replied in a more subdued tone than before. She began to panic slightly, like she was a schoolgirl about to be caught. Christine felt like she was being watched, but pushed them aside when she remembered she was a grown woman, and could do as she pleased. 

Raoul swept her away into the empty carriage, telling driver a name of a restaurant she’s never heard of. Christines nerves went away instantly when he sat next to her and grabbed her hand. The two looked like fresh newlyweds.

“So… Where were you going before you saw me?” He gave a hearty laugh.  
“To pick you up from the opera for lunch.” Breaking into a sly grin. “And… to give you this!” Christine hadn’t noticed him reach into his pocket, but now her held in his hand an open box, with a ring she had always dreamed of. Extravagant, opposite to what you’d think the shy girl would want. She wanted something dazzling, and with her Vicomte, she got it. 

“Love me. That’s all I ask of you?” Raoul spoke in a light whisper, as he leaned close to her ear. Christine stretched out her left hand. The ring was perfect. He was perfect.  
“You know I do.” He then swept her up into the most romantic kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

When Meg was left alone in the quiet studio, Meg noticed how big it really was. Usually it was filled with the corps, or just her and christine, maybe with a few friends or Madame Giry. She’d only been alone in that room a very few times. For some unknown reason, this afternoon, now turning to early night, the room seemed so lonely, and more massive than it had ever been. Meg felt fatigued again, so much effort was put into her dance, she’d need to sleep for a long time to be ready for the next performance of Il Muto the next night. 

Making her way to the little cafe for members of the Opera staff. Then she realized how hungry she was. Acquiring her meal, Meg had to stop herself from making herself seem foolish. Now that Christine was hardly there, Meg would eat with little Jammes and some other corps members, but it was a little too early for them to be eating. She quickly made for the door, In her rush Meg didn’t even notice Christine and the Vicomte Come in the door by the entrance of the cafe, clearly smitten.

“Meg!” A light flit of a voice said, almost ashamed. Meg was so afraid to turn and face her best friend. She felt like she was keeping some awful secret from her. Putting a small smile on her face, Meg turned to the dazzling couple.

“Hello Christine!” Meg placed the box of food on the step she almost was on when her named was called. The two women stared at each other, both waiting for the other to break down at their feet and say a thousand apologies, and tell every bit of their lives that they had missed to each other. Both women never spoke of what they knew though. Christine stepped forward without the Vicomte on her arm.

“Oh Meg, please, oh please come and meet Raoul.” With all the hope and sorrow in her eyes.

“Gladly.” Meg could hardly ever deny Christine, not now, not ever. Christine broke into the biggest smile Meg hasn’t seen in far too long.

“Raoul come here, Meg this is Raoul, Raoul, this is one of the best people I’ve ever known, Meg Giry!” This was like a stab to Meg in a way. Meg wanted to spill every detail of the past 24 hours, but Meg decided she couldn’t. She hadn’t even processed the past events herself yet.

“Charmed indeed, thank you for taking care of Christine for me all these years, Mademoiselle.” He said before he grabbed her hand to leave a gentlemanly kiss. 

“My pleasure!” Meg's face was showing nothing but warmth, but she was so afraid her eyes would betray her. She wanted to flee. “She’s something special.”

When Meg finished her sentence she noticed Christine's eyes slipped to her neck. It was in that moment Meg finally remembered the bruises on her neck. Panic filled both of their eyes, Raoul eyes followed Christine's to the marks. Meg tried to think of a way for the attention to be driven away from her. She swept Christine into a hug, giving her a good squeeze she began to slip away when Christine pulled her closer again. Raoul watched as Meg’s eyes widened in fear, while in the arms of her friend. 

“Are you alright, where did the bruises come from?

“What bruises? Oh Christine, I’m so happy to speak with you tonight. I’m starving, then I’m going straight to bed.” Meg pulled away, turned to Raoul and gently said her goodbye, then turned her head to Christine.

“Forget about it, this was self done, truly an accident. Oh, I love you Christine. Always remember that.” Planting a kiss on Christine's worried cheek, Meg swiftly turned away, grabbed her meal, and had to keep her pace slow. Meg waited until she was out of sight to run all the way to her sanctuary of a room. Bursting into the room, locking the door with immense speed. Meg collapsed at one of the metal bed posts, and clung to the metal as tears cascaded down her pale face. 

She had been so hidden all day, now the one person she didn’t want to she the physical evidence of his anger, saw them. Meg sat on the ground crying into her meal, when she finished her tears were dry, but her body couldn’t stop the sobs her body emitted. Meg felt like a little fool. What she said wasn’t exactly a lie, her condition could have been avoided. She couldn’t help but think that. Meg had never felt so alone in her life. A void was left in her burning heart. She felt as though she could die of a broken heart, then and there.


	6. Chapter 6 - July 2, 1880

When Meg finally woke the next morning she felt sore, but more alert than she had been in the past couple of days. With a start, she dressed in clothes to leave the opera and return a book from the library. Happily sitting on her vanity stool, she was able to actually put all of her things away. Meg brushed the ends of her long hair, looking in the mirror the same as she did two nights ago. Luckily the bruises were now faded to where they couldn’t be noticed unless you really knew where to look. Putting her hair in a signature ribbon hold, Meg grabbed her due book and took off, feeling lighter after the tears she shed the night before. 

Because there was a show later that night, morning bar was now moved to an hour before call time. Playing the Countess’s Jeweller, gave her time on stage to act, sing a little, then she had time to prove herself as a dancer in later acts. Glad to take her morning elsewhere, Meg quickly found herself outside of the Opera Populaire soaking in the warm Parisian summer. She stood on the steps for a few long moments, and looked at the people around her. Smiling the first genuine smile in a long time, Meg walked to the library closest to the opera.

Walking into the little shop-library Meg saw Marine, a new member of the corps. She’ll be making her debut later that evening. Meg went straight to the book she wanted to exchange it for, grabbed it and walked to the man who ran the library. The new girl of the corps was at the shelf just by the till. 

“Bonjour Monsieur Archambeau, I’m here to exchange books.” He took the book with a smile and began to take down her name in his logs. Meg decided to make it her mission to continue to be the butterfly she one was, then and there. “Hello Marine… are you ready for your debut tonight?” Meg was proficient at playing nice.

“Oh! Hello Meg. Yes I am ready.” Laughing an overly confident, almost cocky manner.

“Are you happy you came to the Opera Populaire? It’s a lovely place isn’t it.” Meg said in a voice you could barely tell was fake nicety. A true actress she was. The taller girl seemed a little taken aback, then her words came like daggers.

“...Sure, I was much closer to the title of Prima ballerina at the newer Théâtre des Bouffes-Parisiens. But what can you do? I’m already working up the ranks here, one step closer to the the title.” Her response left Meg speechless, Meg knew she had to compete for the position, but it was the first time anyone had expressed that they were working for the same thing. The exchange was cut off by the librarian sliding the book back to Meg.

“Bye Marine, see you later.” Her demeanor was beginning to fall, She gave the man a sweet thank you, and began to walk away. 

“Yes Meg, see you.” Marine gave with a laugh. Meg was thankful she was fully turned around, because her eyes widened at Marines giggle. Without thinking Meg turned to Archambeau. 

“Could I have a slip of paper? And something to write with?!” Handing her a pad of paper and a pen, he began to deal with Marine.

Meg began to scribble at the paper, When she was done she ripped the paper out and folded it over. Meg looked up to find the tall fellow dancer Marine staring at her. She said another thank you and goodbye, and with the note tucked in the book. Stepping out of the little building, Meg stared at the massive structure called the Opera Populaire. Her entire world was in that building, yet everything that was killing her soul laid in that structure.

Meg stepped into the little cafe l’opera for the public, and was seated right away. Ordering a cup of tea, and lunch, Meg began to read her book. The nagging feeling of impending failure kept coming with each word. The note she wrote flittered onto her lap, her hands shook as she picked the piece up. She reread her words over and over again until a young man placed her food in front of her. A soft “thank you” was her reply. As she ate, the words of doubt repeating in her head like a mantra. Meg left the cafe with the note kept tightly in the novel.

Meg avoided the entrance doors to the side of the Opera, specifically so she could stand in front of the main door and stare at the magnificent structure. Standing like a statue smack-dab in the middle of the bottom of the stairs. Meg stood there for far too long, this place held her future, her past. Everything. The warm Parisian summer wind blew softly at her hair.

Meg finally went to the ticket booth to the side of the front of the building, knowing the grand front doors would be locked. Walking her way to the grand staircase, Meg stood yet again at the bottom with a small smile on her face, looking up at the beautiful marble and flowers surrounding the foyer. Everything was almost ready for the performance.

The words still repeating in her head, almost taunting her. New phrases made their way into the words repeating in her head. Just do it already. What are you afraid of? What is there to lose? Meg was pulled out of her daze by the softer than normal words of her mother. 

“Meg?” Meg turned her head to her mother. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, maman.” The worried look on her mother's face made Meg give a soft smile.

“How long have you been standing here?”

“I don’t know, I just came back from lunch and returning a book. Something Marine said made me start thinking. I’m just admiring how beautiful this place is. I often forget.” They stood together for a time.

“I am sorry, Meg, I must speak with the managers now. See you in a few hours, for warm ups.”

“Of course, maman.” Madame Giry placed a kiss on Meg’s cheek. Meg waited until her mother went into the manager's office to start ascending the stairs. 

Making sure no one was around, Meg slipped into the hall. She made her way to the infamous box five. If this was less than a year ago, and her friends knew, she’d be getting the fright of her life, and the biggest thrill. Opening the door to the box, she took a seat. Less than a year ago it would scariest thing she’s ever done. Now this place was one of the most peaceful places to be. She couldn’t believe it. The lodge, draped in red velvet, was exquisite, and serene. 

Not one person has in the whole theater at this time, most who lived in the Opera were at lunch, and those who didn’t wouldn’t be arriving until later. She began to read the book again, starting over now that the mantra stopped repeating in her head. She was close to what her mind was reaching for, if only she knew what it was. When people started to enter the theater to turn on the lamps so workers could make sure the theater was ready, Meg finally stopped reading and opened the note again. Staring at the quick writing, she couldn’t stop thinking about what this piece of paper can do. 

Meg stood up, folded the paper twice. She looked for where to put it finally settling for the middle tier chair. Hopefully he would see it, and hopefully her mother would leave it alone if she did notice. Notes for him would go on a little ledge, her mother would check the ledge for notes from him as well. So she couldn’t put it there, if she left it on the front chair the note would go unnoticed by him, and the back chair was too close. Giving the box another look, Meg quickly left and made the trek back to her room, seeing a few corps members along the way.


	7. Chapter 7

Meg woke up before her alarm but laid in her bed, watching the rainy summer night cast a dark filter over her room. She adored when it rained, the Earth was darker, and the trees were a fabulous green. Men and women carried various umbrellas, and dressed in protective outerwear. Meg stayed that way until her alarm finally went off.

At the sound, she stood up from her bed and began to strip the covers, replacing the sheet with a fresh one, and replaced her various covers. Smoothing out the duvet, and fixing the pillows, Meg walked to the window in her room and watched people come into the opera, to make sure the Opera was in order, and to warm up for the show.

Meg liked to stretch before starting her hair and makeup, before she did so, she quickly switched to her Degas style rehearsal dress. After stretching her limbs, Meg sat down at her vanity and began to brush her hair so she could put all of it up in various ribbons. Meg twisted her hair up, when she was about to start tying with a ribbon, when she began to pose in the mirror. She didn’t like to wear her hair up, but posing did make her feel like a model in those elegant studio photos actresses took in dramatic stances.

She tilted her head up and looked at the barely there bruises, somehow sad they were fading, it was a physical reminder of something she couldn’t quite name. Tying her hair and placing some more decorative ribbons and ornaments in her hair, and she was done. Starting her makeup, perfect for stage, with dark eyes, pale face, and sweet doll lips, perfect for a jeweler and a breathtaking sylph. 

She took her time getting ready, so when she was done she had to leave right away, grabbing her bag and pointe shoes, Meg made her way to the rehearsal room for full company warm up. As she became closer to the room, filled with almost every dancer of the corps, Meg became nervous. She made her way to the front of the room, near La Sorelli, as usual. Normally Christine and Meg would be there in that spot together, but now it was just her. 

La Sorelli was offered the position of Prima Ballerina by Monsieur Lefevre when Meg was just ten years old. She came in as this tall, intimidating swan-like creature. With dark hair and a swarthy olive complexion, she was the most graceful person Meg had ever seen. Madame Giry in her youth could’ve danced circles around La Sorelli, but of course Meg never saw that side of the ballet mistress.  
Now as the years kept turning, Meg began to outshine the rest of the corps, and eventually La Sorelli herself. La Sorelli knew that this year was her last with the title, and she tried her hardest not to be jealous of the young dancers, especially Meg. So the older dancer tried to clear her conscience by being like an older sister to the young girls. They would cling to her gauze-like dresses and crinolines. La Sorelli claimed to be completely unafraid of the Opera Ghost, She would pull her dagger and swish the air just to prove she was fearless of the Phantom, and of little dancers who could, and would replace her.

“Hello Meg, are you alright? we didn’t see you at barre yesterday.” Meg pulled her torso from its position over her leg resting on the barre.

“Hello Sorelli, I felt under the weather. Thank you for asking.” Meg was shocked every time Sorelli talked to her. She was unreachable in Meg's eyes. 

“I saw you on the steps outside this morning. You looked as though you were sleepwalking.” 

“Yes, every once in awhile the building takes my breath away.” Sorelli couldn’t help but think the girl was odd. Just after Meg replied Madame Giry smacked her cane from her position next to the piano. That sound made even La Sorelli jump into first position in silence. Class warm ups began at once. 

At 30 minutes to curtain call, every singer in the opera, including La Carlotta, would do a large group warm up. Except now Carlotta was not present. Tonight, and for the rest of Il Mutos run, Christine would play The Countess. Meg stayed in her spot until every one came in, the dancers who didn’t sing went elsewhere. The quiet room started to fill with chatter as she dreaded Christine's arrival. When she did finally walk in, Christine came in like an angel, unreachable and bright. Giggling with the girl replacing Christine as the pageboy. When Christine spotted Meg, she ran to the dancer.

“Meg!” Pulling her into a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m great Chris, itching to perform, how have you been?” Meg felt like she would break down in tears again.

“I am so nervous. I’m not used to being the lead.” She came close Megs ear. “I’m afraid he will do something. Something terrible.” Meg knew exactly why he would be angry with Christine, but her slightly younger friend still didn’t know she was on the roof. Christine was sure he knew, he knew everything.

“Why would he do something, you are playing the countess. That's what he wants. isn’t it?” Meg had to use her acting skills once again, on someone who was basically her sister. She felt incredibly guilty. Madame Giry smacked her cane again and the two fixed their posture, and kept their heads down. Then Monsieur Reyes began warm ups. Meg and Christine loved to warm up together, then had the same exact range, sometimes one would push to sing slightly lower than the other, until they sounded truly awful. Too many performances almost ruined with laughter.

People were always surprised when Meg sung around them for the first time, She was simply fantastic. If she fought hard enough, she could be Prima Donna. Meg was consistent, a perfect performer. She could improvise, and act with so much feeling. Yet her voice had a more down to Earth quality, compared to Christine's ethereal tone. Meg was a star, while Christine was an angel. Meg could get any part she wanted, but she only wanted dancing roles, and roles like a jeweler in Il Muto. 

When they adjourned, Meg and Christine walked to Christine's dressing room, where Christine asked one of her girls to get Meg’s costume. There they got ready together, in a fit of giggles and normal chatter. When both were ready, the dressers left the room, leaving them alone. Meg put Christine's bushy hair into pins, so the Countess wig could go over the tresses. That’s something they both had in common when it came to looks, hair like a lion's mane. When Meg was done she kissed Christine's forehead like she used to all of the time. What was unusual about the transaction was the fact that Christine began to sob a little.

“Christine?” Meg moved to sit on her knees, she grabbed hold of Christine's hands. “What’s the matter?” 

“Oh nothing, Meg! Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve been awful to you since my debut in Hannibal, and being with Raoul has made me distracted.” Meg gave a little laugh.

“Oh Christine! You're my sister, You deserve happiness, I won’t ever be mad at you for wanting to be happy. Raoul makes you happy, Singing makes you happy. I will always be here for you, just call and i'll be there.” Christine flung her arms around Meg and dried her tears on a handkerchief. Then, Madame Giry barged into the room in a panic.

“Eleanor is missing, we have no one to cover the pageboy.” The ballet mistress had many jobs, messenger just happened to be one. 

“What!” Both girls yelled.

“Who's replacing her?” Meg asked right away. 

“Yes, who?” Christine rushed to fix her makeup.

“We don’t know. We might have to cancel.”

“The managers will throw a fit mother!” Christine turned around like a bullet to Meg, who was fixing her blonde hair in the mirror.

“Meg! You do it, you’ll fit right into her costume.” Both Giry’s stared at the brunette in shock. “You know the part. Very little singing, and mostly acting.”

“I’ll have the dressers bring in her costume. Get your hair down. Christine walk her through it.” Meg didn’t say a word, until Christine had Meg on the stool and was pulling her hair out of its position to pull it into a low pony tail. Meg turned and put her hand on Christine's arm.

“Christine, if this is your way of thanking me for Elissa, I’m okay. You deserved it.”

“No Meg, please do this for me, Raoul's coming to see me tonight.” Christine was pleading like a little child, Meg couldn’t refuse.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” Just then a dresser bolted in as Christine explained the role so Meg wouldn’t forget. Christine also remembered to go through the very few sung lines Serafimo had. Another dresser removed Meg's doll lips, and left the dark eyeliner and face details, taking the blush down slightly. When they were done it was two minutes to curtain. Meg had to be done and on stage in position as the curtain came up. So there Meg was right before curtain, in a tear away skirt and cap, a young woman acting like a man pretending to be a lady’s maid. Meg was determined to wow the audience with flirtatious flair, and boyish charm. Just before curtain, Christine ready in the wings, gave one last encouraging smile to Meg. 

“In tonight's performance of Il Muto the role of the Countess will be played by Mademoiselle Christine Daae, and the role of the Pageboy will be played by Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry. Conducted by Monsieur Reyes.” Christine's name was like a jab to the ghost in box five, but the moment he heard Little Giry’s name he couldn’t help but give a full laugh. Neighboring boxes knew the box would make sounds occasionally, they thought the Opera did it simply for publicity. However the laugh gave the patrons great confusion. The curtain rose to unveil Meg turned away from the audience, Christine along with jewelers came in from both wings, singing while Meg pretended to dust. 

“I would happily take the maid, with me!” Meg turned to show her fake disgust, she had to admit, This was fun. Christine sung beautifully, but something was missing. It was like every word became even more distant from her priorities. Meg watched with a sneaky expression until it came time for the reveal.

“Serafimo! Away from this pre-tense!” With that Christine tore away the skirt as Meg pulled the cap off to reveal her blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail, and dark trousers that fit her better than the girl they were made for. “You cannot speak, BUT kiss me in my husbands absence.” Meg played Serafimo with perfect boyish charm, as she set out to do. Through the rest of the scene, Meg and Christine had to act like lovers. The movements made it very hard for them to stifle their laughter. They made it to final bows without a hitch. Just as it came down to the last two people to run to take a bow, Christine started to walk out first. 

“Christine wait, I go first.” 

“No you don’t. The show’s called Il Muto, you're the Muto!” Then Christine ran to the sound of overwhelming applause, leaving Meg stunned. Carlotta would've rather died than let someone bow after her. Meg’s mother had to push her out. So she ran to the front for the stage, the already loud applause somehow became louder. The other half of the audience who stayed seated when Christine ran out, stood up to applaud Meg. Giving a few bows, Meg grabbed Christine’s hand to bow together, then the rest of the company joined them. Meg searched box five, expecting to find it empty, but she was shocked yet again to see that the infamous Opera Ghost was standing in applause. The curtain fell as Christine tackled Meg to the floor in excitement. Both girls giggled the way they hadn’t in the longest time.

“Meg! You did so well. You have to play Serafimo for the rest of the run, I’m talking to the managers right away.” Christine tried to get up but failed due to the cage in her gown. “When I can actually get up!” They laid on the ground giggling and complimenting each other until Raoul came to the rescue and pulled Christine off of Meg.

“You did wonderful Christine! And you Meg! The perfect Pageboy! Sorry Christine.” All three gave hearty laughs.

“Thank you Monsieur Le Vicomte”

“Raoul. Please.” As Meg gave a light bow with her head in a reply, Christine spotted the Monsieur Andre, and where there was one manager there was the other.

“OH! There’s Andre, I must speak with him!” Christine gave Meg a kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye Meg, see you tomorrow!” With that she dragged Raoul away to get Meg that role, and have supper. Meg looked for her mother, finding her walking her way.

“Maman! How was it?” 

“You did wonderfully! You work very well under pressure.” 

“Thank you maman. I’m so tired, I am going to Christine's dressing room to change, and going straight to my room!” Madame Giry wished her daughter to sleep well. "Goodnight, maman.” Meg turned away to walk to Christine's dressing room. Christine wouldn’t have been back yet, so Meg changed behind the screen into her rehearsal dress once again. She grabbed all of her thing and put them back into her bag, then switched into little slippers she wore around the opera. Meg left the whole costume laying on a chair. Meg sat on the vanity stool, and unclipped her hair from the ponytail, shaking her hair out Meg heard a voice.

“I want to see you.” The voice read exactly what Meg wrote on the note just hours before. It had to be him.

“Erik!” She said in a whisper. “Where are you?" Meg looked around the room. “Oh.” Meg said as she watched the full body mirror on the wall open in the vanity mirror. She swung her body around as she stood up.

“That’s how you took Christine.” He simply gave a low nod.

“Come.” Meg grabbed her things and quickly followed him into the mirror. They started the journey to his home in silence, The light from the dressing room went away when they turned a down a staircase. He grabbed her arm and interlocked hers with his so she wouldn’t fall. After exactly 20 steps, she counted in her head, Meg spoke in the darkness.

“I’m glad you saw my note, I thought you might not see it. Or my mother would find it first.” He gave a deep, slightly unsettling laugh.

“It was smart of you to leave it where you did.” Meg was happy for what seemed to be a compliment.

“Maman would’ve taken it if I put it on the ledge.” 

“You are right. Good thinking.”

“Thank you!” She whispered. The rest of the journey was spent in silence. He decided to avoid the boat, and took her to a door that led to the room down the dark hallway she had wondered about on her first visit. Meg immediately took a seat on the throne she now claimed as her own.


	8. Chapter 8

“You have a wonderful collection of books.” Something Meg would never deny, her love for books. She stood up and looked at the titles, noticed the book she just checked out that morning. “May I?” 

“What?” She grabbed the book and shook it in her hand “Oh, yes.” Meg settled onto the throne again, and found the spot she stopped at earlier. She got a few chapters in while she was in box five. Meg read for a while, until Erik started to fix a fire. Finding a little courage to ask him a question. 

“Why did you agree to let me see you again.” He turned and looked at her curious face. Erik turned back and finished messing with the fire, he stood and smoothed out his coat.

“I don’t know. You seemed lonely.”

“Yes. But that’s not your concern, it’s mine.” He began to walk toward the two steps, Erik disappeared for a while. Coming back from, when she saw what was in his hand, what she assumed was the kitchen. Meg looked back down at the book, moments later Erik handed her a glass of wine by putting it in between her face and the book. 

“Thank you!” She whispered to him. Erik sat on the deep burgundy tufted loveseat to the other end of the mantle. Meg noticed before how tall he was, now seeing his long legs stretched in front of him almost made her laugh aloud. 

“I don’t want to intrude by being here, do whatever you like, I won’t be a bother.”

“You’re quiet. I won’t be annoyed by you, especially when you’re reading like that.” He said pointing to her. She was sitting with her legs crossed, rehearsal skirt flounced over her legs, and perfect posture. The pages of the book were already turned a few chapters in. 

“I checked this book out this morning at the library, I read some of it earlier when I visited your box to leave the note. It’s peaceful in there when no one's in the auditorium.” She paused for a few moments. “Also it helps that I’ve read it at least ten times!” 

“Really? I haven’t read it once. I tend to leave some certain novels… hm… alone.” without turning a page, she looked into his eyes and began to recite the famous first sentence.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Erik raised an eyebrow at the strange prose spoken from the young woman. She held up the book.

“The first sentence.” Meg gave with a grin. The very first time she read Pride and Prejudice, she was hooked by the end of that sentence. “Intriguing right?”

“Keep reading.” 

“Aloud?” She was excited, pleased, and nervous all at the same time. 

“Whatever you like.” With another little smile, Meg read the first sentence again. Erik sat on the loveseat, staring at the glass in his hand, as Meg continued to read through the first chapter in a gentle voice. 

She sat there reading to him to the end of the sixth chapter, when she finished she looked up to find Erik with his head tilted back, and with his eyes closed. When he noticed she stopped he met her eyes with curiosity. 

“I thought you might have fallen asleep.” Meg closed the book and uncrossed her legs. “I might fall asleep if I speak another word.” With that, she swung her legs over one the arms of the throne and tilted her head back for dramatic effect. Stretching her limbs in her spot, she stuck her arms over her head to add another dramatic flair. 

“Come, I will take you back to your room.” She didn’t move, but eventually opened one eye to find him standing in front of her. 

“Hello?” Meg said in a sleepy voice.

“Hello.” 

“Just leave me here.”

“Not an option.” 

“And why not?” She didn’t realize how rude she sounded until she said it, at times this was her biggest plight. He only laughed in response.

“You have rehearsal in the morning.” She opened her eyes to him.

“How do you know?” She had to admit, the answer to that question was obvious. The look he gave her made her almost giggle. Meg stood slowly from the throne, swaying slightly with her eyes closed. Erik placed a hand on each shoulder, she opened her eyes to meet his. Without a word she waited until he began to lead her away, they walked together as he lead her upstairs to her room.

Erik had decided to avoid the boat once again, unlike when he brought Christine to his home. Walking down that dark hallway by the double french doors they came back to the a hidden passage they had come from earlier that night. Walking past the staircase that eventually led to the mirror, he took her to another hall farther down. 

They walked him somewhat comfortable silence. Meg hadn’t noticed how far they had gotten until they were in the hallway that held Meg's room. The room Meg occupied was at the very end of the building a few floors up, the hidden metal spiral staircase opened a few feet away from Meg’s door. When she saw the repainted door she knew so well, Meg stopped turned her head to his before reaching in her bag for her keys. 

“Do you want to continue reading tomorrow after rehearsal? I won’t make any promises that I won’t finish large portion without you if we wait any longer.” They stood outside of her door in silence for a few moments.

“If you would like that, yes.” Erik turned to disappear into the passage, but turned his head back.

“Don’t go through this passage alone, I’ll escort you.” Meg nodded her head in return. They said soft goodbyes to each other, and she let him almost slip away.

“Erik!” She whisper yelled to get his attention. “Thank you.” He gave her a nod, then bowed slightly.

They both turned away and slipped into their respective doors. Meg leaned her back against the door when she closed it softly to make as little noise as possible. Meg fell asleep almost immediately as she settled under her blankets, a new occurrence in her life at present, she didn’t have to go through a hundred different thoughts before she could finally rest.


	9. Chapter 9 - The night of July 2 into June 3, 1880

Meg was thankful she no longer had nightmares at the rate she used to, now she only had them once in a blue moon. Before Christine came to the opera, the nightmares were an every night occasion, Madame Giry would come to her aid every time. There was a void in Meg’s heart that was filled by taking care of the younger brunette. It gave her something to do, other than dancing and hanging on her mother's skirt. 

Every once in awhile they would make their way into her peaceful night, and Christine would play the comforting role until Meg calmed back down and fell asleep again. Meg hadn’t had a nightmare since the first night Christine moved into her own room down the hall almost two years ago, she had to cope by herself, for herself. Meg felt that her suffered silence was a good thing for her, The dreams hardly ever came to haunt her now. She could handle it every so often.

It wasn’t until deep into that night Meg had the worst nightmare she’d ever had experienced. Usually they were over disasters far away from her actual living sphere. Places and events far way from the Opera Populaire. The thing that made this image a short living-hell, was the fact the scene in her head started on the stage of the Opera. The night Raoul happily proposed to Christine, and the fateful night she met the opera ghost. Not the person she knew him to be now, not the the man who sat with her while she read. 

The first thing she saw in her dream, was a view she saw earlier of Christine taking her first bow as The Countess. When she rose her head, Meg noticed the chandelier coming toward the soubrette. Luckily Raoul had come to her rescue and pulled the soprano away from the spot, every other person ran as far away as they could while Meg stared the moving heap of crystal in the metaphorical eye.   
She didn't move until she felt arms of an unknown figure wrap around her like the Phantom did while she started to straighten her vanity table some nights before, Her vision grew dark and came back as the sight she saw when she was sitting on the throne the first time. The phantom's hands on either side of her head. Meg could feel his anger radiating off of him, much more than when it actually happened. His eyes were glowing a deep yellow, like an animal ready to kill his prey in the dead of night.

When this event actually took place, Meg said the same stubborn words she said in her scene. Instead of The intimidating man cutting her ties like he really did, the man she now knew as Erik, pressed the blade to her neck with just enough pressure to let a little blood slip from her skin. 

“Do you know who you're dealing with?” His voice echoed in her head like death. Every word was said with enough malice for her to drop dead. Eriks tone hurt much more now that she knew him to be gentler. Her eyes were wide, while the rest of her face was like stone. She was afraid that if she moved, she would break down in tears. She was wholeheartedly stubborn when faced with any danger, Meg considered this one of her biggest faults. Maybe if she had just begged for mercy, she wouldn’t be here, deep below the stage, right on the edge of death.

“I guess not... Erik.” She added his name in a whisper, Meg watched through her tears as he lost some of his raging composure. He threw the knife in his hand on the ground and placed his hand on her neck. The pressure reminded her of the their first encounter on the roof, but in her imagination it was much worse. The scene was like a metaphorical knife twisting yet again into a deep wound. Erik pushed her back up against the throne by the throat. Her blood flooded his hand. His voice, laced with death, racked through her body again.

“Erik, is not here.” The way he spoke about himself chilled her to her core. They somehow had that effect on each other. His cold attitude hurt her, The scene was happening too fast for her to realize it was, in fact, a nightmare. The fact it was so close to home tore her heart apart, and she didn’t know how to secure a grasp on her emotions. The Phantom in her head tightened his grip on her throat again. The searing pain she imagined from the pressure he held over the bleeding wound made Meg regain consciousness in her bed. 

Her hand flew to her neck, the feeling of his own hand still fresh on her mind. Maybe if she wished it enough, he would appear before her again and the terror she felt would go away knowing that he wasn’t on the brink of slaughtering her. She sat up, hand still in its position, and her breathing shook her body. Usually she would conceal her tears with silent sobs, but this time she couldn't grasp her emotions well enough to quiet herself. Meg silently hoped through her panic no one was awake to hear her. 

Somehow in her hysterics she ended up on her large rug tangled in her pretty duvet. Pushing the fabric off of her she stood up and grabbed her dramatic dressing gown, with a long train, velvet, and excessive embroidery. Meg had acquired it from a retired opera the house did a few years ago. She adored unnecessarily opulent pieces, and this once she found buried under a pile of costumes.

Meg had to go somewhere, anywhere. Her skin was on fire, and her body was humming. She ripped through the door and bolted up the stairs at the other end of the hall. The cold stone of the stairs she knew so well, kept what little sanity she had. Again Meg found herself running to the roof, this time actually knew why she was running there. It was the only place she could go that was outside, and no one could hear her. 

When Meg made it to the roof she collapsed right in the center, she sat back on her knees, arms to her side, and she stared at the stars above her. Tears were still streaming from her eyes, and her body still heaved. Meg couldn’t tell anyone how long she stayed like that. When her body was finally tired enough she moved off of her knees she collapsed onto her back. She ran out of tears, but her body still shook. Meg had never felt this deep underlying fear before. After what could have been hours of staring at the sky, she fell asleep. 

Meg woke up with the sun shining on her pink velvet clad form. If an artist would have saw her they’d yell “Don’t move!” and paint her like a romantic wood nymph in a painting. She made her way to stand up, stopping for a minute when she sat up because of the headache pounding at her skull. With a little whimper as she stood up and dusted off her dressing gown. The sunrise was beautiful, Paris as a whole was beautiful. Meg took a breath of the morning Parisian air, she was strangely… calm. Her hands still shook a little, but she felt better. Meg made her way to her room again, and set her alarm. Even though she felt better, she still wanted to sleep.

Meg went through her morning with quiet ease. She met with her mother at rehearsal, at the end she called her name. Meg walked to to her mother.

“Would you like to have lunch?” Meg smiled.

“Yes, Now?” Madame Giry nodded.

“Let me change.” Meg rushed to change in her room, when she was done they met on the steps in the foyer of the opera. From there they walked to the a little cafe a few blocks from the opera. The meal passed uneventfully, but both returned to the opera with happy hearts. 

“Am I to play Serafimo tonight?” Meg asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

“Yes, darling.” 

“Did they… Did they really like my performance?” 

“Yes they did, and they want you to do it again. The managers changed the poster.” This feeling of being important to the opera was amazing. It proved she wasn’t just some expendable ballet girl, ready to be shipped elsewhere when she was all used up. As Meg went to her room, she decided to check Christine's dressing room to see if she was there. Meg was lucky to find her alone, for once. When Christine saw it was Meg she pulled her into the room and into a great big hug.

“Do you mind if I stay here until the show?” Meg took a seat on Christine’s fainting couch. Christine begged her to stay at the proposition. 

Christine started chatting about nothing in particular, when you got her going, Christine really could talk for long periods of time. This wasn't completely new to Meg, Christine could be so quiet, but when in complete happiness, she would run on and on. Meg guessed Christine was just happier all the time now. Since Hannibal she would go on and on all the time now. Meg used to do that constantly, but that’s another story. Both girls moved on to their own quiet endeavors, after a while of silence Meg spoke into the silence. 

“I had one of those nightmares again.” Christine turned from her vanity she was writing at like lightning. She searched Meg's eyes for some type of instruction on what to do.

“Really? Why didn’t you come and find me?” Christine ran to sit in front of Meg. Meg kept her head down, looking at her hands that were playing with ribbon that was once in her hair. Christine grabbed her blonde friends hands, and met her eyes. 

“It wasn’t that important.” In reality, it was the worst one she’d ever had. “And, it was important that I get through it myself.” Meg cried to her friend. “I can’t run to someone every time something bad happens. It felt good to help myself. Besides you don’t even live in the opera anymore, I wasn’t going to traipse into Mama's house in the middle of the night.” Meg stood up and walked past her friend to mess with her hair.

“Al-alright Meg.” Christine said with blubbery tears.

“Oh Christine! Please don’t cry, I’m fine. I’m happy you care so much.” 

“Of course I care so much!” Christine cried out like a wounded puppy.

“Oh! Oh, Christine I’m so sorry.” Meg met Christine on the floor and embraced her as she cried into her shoulder. Meg met her own eyes in the mirror that served as a secret passage. They both knew where it led, but neither would admit it. Meg stared at the glass like it was actually him there, the man who had inadvertently caused most, or all of the problems the two best friends had. After awhile like this, a page came to get Christine to warm ups. The two broke away and giggled, Meg got up first and helped Christine to her feet. “Let's go.” 

Meg performed Serafimo, While Christine did The Countess again. They were phenomenal, the corps said it, Raoul said it, the patrons said it, The managers said it, even the papers said it. This was everything the duo ever wanted, they wanted to perform together, and here they were. They were a fantastic duo, Meg was a natural born performer and Christine showed her love for the art of singing in her performance. Meg really seemed like Serafimo, while Christine really seemed like a great actor playing a countess. Both wonderful, but the blonde one, was somehow finer.


	10. Chapter 10

Meg found herself not too long after her bows, far below the opera, sitting on the throne that, just that morning, was the the site of her terror. This time Erik was playing little melodies along with her reading. She had to admit, she loved this. Meg only had to focus on the printed words, not the loneliness. Just words. She did longed to speak about what she experienced in the early morning, but she felt that they weren’t ready to speak about things of that heavy nature. After a few chapters her throat grew tired from the constant speaking. She stopped and waited for him to speak first.

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yes.” She said lazily. “Just tired.” Meg pulled the clip from her hair, she never took it down after changing back into her dress. Her skirts were piled around her crossed legs. Standing up from the throne, Meg walked to the elegant instrument. She rested her head for a few moments on her crossed hands over the tallest section of the piece. She was looking at him while he continued to play.

“Did you have dinner?” He asked while shifting chords. Meg shook her head to tell him no. She had completely forgotten about eating until he mentioned it. Erik stood up from the bench.

“Come along.” Erik lead her to the kitchen, he seemed to lead her many places. She wasn’t shocked one bit by the decor. Burgundy walls and rich mahogany cabinets. He pulled a seat away from the grandiose table by the door for her. Meg sat down with a thank you as he began to cook. Balling her hands into little fists, she rested her chin on them, and watched him prepare a meal for a while.

“Do you like to cook?”

“Yes, I do.” He said with little smile under the mask. 

“Like what?” He turned to her.

“Well, everything, I’m making something fast for you. Since it’s so late.”

“Thank you, you really don’t have to be so nice to me.”

“I do not mind. It is the least I could do, seeing as what your mother did for me..” She knew the beginning of her mother's relationship with him, somewhat, but she was too afraid to ask. He started to plate his creation, when he was done he came to place both plates on the table. When he went to grab a bottle of wine he spoke again.

“I do not know exactly why you trust me, or want to be around me. I am not the… most upstanding citizen you know, Mademoiselle.” They both knew it. He killed, manipulated, and kidnapped his way through his life. 

“I really don’t mind. I’ve met worse people than you, their actions might not... match yours. But their words, and personalities make me feel… so lost.” Her eyes were trained at her wine glass and then his long fingers moving without a thought on his own. “I feel like I’m drowning when I’m not alone or on stage. Drowning in voices and egos, and spirits of people who don’t necessarily want to be around me.” He watched as she put the cup to her lips. “Monsieur.” She whispered nervously, then took a sip.

“Bon appetite, Meg.” It became customary for Meg to address Erik, by name or title, with whispers. So he in turn began to address her, weather it was her name or title, with a whisper. They ate and spoke of lighter topics, somehow they landed on the topic of their favorite operas. 

“This might be a biased choice, but I really enjoy Faust. I do get my namesake from the story.” Meg laughed delightfully.


	11. Chapter 11- July 4, 1880

“But, Monsieur Firmin! The Opera does a ballet every turn of the season.” Madame Giry exclaimed while in a meeting the next morning with both managers. They had told the intimidating ballet mistress that instead of the normal late summer ballet, another opera would take its performance spot.

“Now. Now. Madame Giry, the public wants another show with Mademoiselle Daae, and your little Giry. When we give the public what it wants, the more the public pays.” In a slightly hidden mock-comforting tone, then he lowered his voice on his last comment, but of course Madame Giry’s sharp ears heard perfectly.

“And with all that extra money, you will continue to pay my girls.”

“But Mad-”

“No. Monsieur. You can not dock their pay, and cancel their show because you want to make a little more money.” She made her way to the office door, and opened it a few inches when Firmin tried to protest. “End of discussion.” Madame Giry fled from the room with panther like precision. Madame Giry had grown into as graceful of an older woman as she was as a soloist in her day, she was simply sublime. It was only fitting at her daughter would soon surpass her. 

Madame Giry, born as Antoinette Lyon, grew up while taking dance classes in a now-closed Opera house. Her parents were supportive of her dancing at a superficial level. When Antoinette showed interest in ballet as a career, her middle class family with a small fortune forbade her to continue. In her passion she fled to an audition for a house that conveniently held dorms. 

Antoinette had to fend for herself, and luckily with her talent, she could. Mademoiselle Lyon, turned Madame Giry, met Monsieur Giry when he came to the opera as a fly-man. The couple was never visibly smitten, but in private they were each other's world. Meg never knew how much her father meant to her stern mother.

Meg’s father was always quiet topic, and honestly, Meg never even thought about what she didn’t have. Her father died while she was very young. She was quite content with her mother and the workers of the opera, there was no void to be filled. The only reason he wasn’t talked about is because it was a forever-open wound for Madame Giry.

Almost every day of the week, every member of the corps de ballet would meet in the second cellar for morning barre, for group stretches and repertoire. Madame Giry was shocked to find that when she entered the room her little blonde was there working on slow graceful movements. Making sure every line was complete, and every move was calculated and each was executed in a way that made it seem effortless. 

Madame Giry watched unnoticed for a few minutes, in awe at how well Meg had excelled over her guise as a teacher, and was overjoyed at looking at her daughter. It hurt her heart to tell her daughter that the late summer ballet would be canceled, they hadn't even picked one yet, but it was painful. 

“Class doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, take a rest.” Meg turned to her mother with her hand clutched over her heart. She gave a carefree giggle.

“Hello, Maman.” Meg had a little pep in her step after so long of being the quietest girl in class for a time, she seemed for moment the Meg she used to be. Meg didn’t notice the change in herself, but if she did she’d know why. She left his home in the fifth cellar with a lighter heart each time. Meg sat on the floor in front of a mirror in her usual spot and waited for class to start. Both Giry’s chatted until girls started to fill the room. As class came to an end Madame Giry called all of the dancers to crowd around her.

“Now. Our dear managers have decided to cut the late summer ballet, and replace it with another opera.” Huffs came from almost every dancer on the floor. “You will be needed though, so wait for schedules. You are dismissed.” Meg stayed on the floor as the room cleared, Madame Giry prepared to leave when she was Meg with a little pout on the floor. 

“What's the matter?”

“Just a little sad, I was looking forward to learning a new show.”

“They are impressed with Christine, and you. They want to bring in more seats, and they think you two will bring them in.” This excited Meg maybe a little more than a former her would have liked. Serafimo was an almost silent role, what other leading role could she do well enough. Meg thought to herself that they just want Christine to do another show. They just said Meg as well to get Madame Giry to comply. 

Christine would be nothing but optimism for her. Madame Giry would tell her to see it through. The ballet girls would tell her how jealous they were. Meg stood up and decided to take a mid afternoon nap instead of actually facing her feelings, but first she left a little note in box five. No dreams were cast, just sleep. Later as Meg left her room for an early dinner, as she came back to her room, the secret passage opened. Just then another door down the hall began to open, Meg ran into the dim passage before she was caught.

“They are replacing our late summer ballet with another opera!” Meg said in a whisper as they made their way down. This time she started to lead the way, but he eventually started to walk side by side. “They told my mother that they wanted to give the public what it wants, and apparently it’s Christine that the patrons want. They even tacked my name onto the sentence to get my mother to comply. What part, other than almost silent role, would they give a dancer. Not when they have wonderful girls in the chorus, Carlotta, and Christine.”

“Yes, but Carlotta is not here, and you took over Serafimo. You have a better resume than any chorus girl, and you were talked about by name in the papers. You have more claim than any chorus girl.” Meg simply rolled her eyes in return. 

Sitting on the throne once again, Meg noticed the drawings of Christine that once were on the walls and crumbled on the floor were now gone. He was angry, and she saw right through him. When Meg wasn’t around, he could tear apart anyone who took a wrong step. But in her presence, Erik carried himself like the highest French Duc. Meg refused to speak about his obsession with Christine, She was the only one to say her name. Erik never mentioned Christine or the Vicomte. 

It was as though they didn’t exist in Meg’s presence. Secretly Meg found it nice not to talk about them for some time. Meg’s relationship with everyone was odd now. Christine and her were drifting, being with her mother was simply awkward, the corps liked to gossip with her, but that was about it, and she had absolutely no clue what to make of her new relationship with Erik. 

“We get the new score and parts tomorrow. We will see how it goes.”


	12. Chapter 12 - July 5, 1880

Monsieur Reyes came walking in with a page behind him holding a large stack of the score. Christine and Meg sat in chairs on the stage next to each other, Meg in a dark green rehearsal long dress with embroidery she did herself, and Christine in a light purple dress with a small bustle. Both Carlotta and Piangi still refused to return to the opera, so the two girls sat closest to the piano at the time to chat. A tenor was pulled from the chorus to play the lead, and the rest of the chorus and soloists filled the seats.

“Romeo et Juliette!” Christine clutched Meg's arm in excitement, Meg had to admit it would be nice to do the show. As the score was passed around, The roles were assigned on the first page

Juliette - soprano - Christine Daae  
Roméo, son of Montague - tenor - Pierre Cazaux  
Frère Laurent - bass - Jean Daram  
Mercutio, Romeo's friend - baritone - Auguste-Armand Troy  
Stéphano, Romeo's page - soprano, (trouser role) - Marguerite Giry  
So on and so forth, etc. 

Meg read the list and began to re read the list over and over again. Stephano had a solo aria, Did the managers even know she could do it? Reyes must have pushed for it. Since many didn’t know the score well enough, no rehearsal for the leads was to be held. So soloists were dismissed and the chorus stayed behind. Christine smiled and giggled her way off the stage to met Raoul in the grand foyer after she kissed Meg on the cheek.

Meg read the list again. This time she flipped to the every part assigned to Stephano, each word frightened and infuriated her even more. Meg barreled her way through the people left on stage. Grabbing a pastry from the kitchen she ate as she made her way deeper into the cellars. Starting at the mirror, Meg somehow maneuvered through the tunnels without encountering single trap.

Meg remembered how to get to that door that led to the dark hall that opened to the drawing room. Erik heard the door swing open and the steps of fashionable heels click on the stone floor. Walking to the the loveseat across from the throne he usually sat in, Meg threw the score face up onto the empty seat to his left. 

“Stephano. Another trouser role, with more singing.” She said in a panicked, yet angry tone she didn’t expect to use, she then placed her hands on the top of the loveseat. He grabbed the score and read the cast list, his eyes coldly skimmed over Christine's name, and laughed a hearty laugh at Marguerites. Meg walked around to take the place where the score just laid. “What am I going to do?” She said in a whiny voice. She began to play with her boot buttons.  
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Meg looked up at his eyes from her low, slumped position.

“You! You have to help me!” She stared at him with wide, searching eyes.

“I can not help you.” Erik stood and walked to the bench.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if they take me off the part, and I don’t want to give it up if I’m completely honest with you.” Meg added without hearing his answer.

“I do not think it is good idea.” Meg still didn’t hear his answer, with a little hmph she covered her eyes with her hands and threw her torso over her crossed right leg on the seat. Her forehead touching the seat where he just sat.

“Why am I so dramatic about everything?” She whined. “I mean, all I have to do is say I’m just a dancer and incapable and I won’t have to worry about wasting rehearsal time.” Now she was crying. Her sobs filled the room for a long time until he spoke again.

“Alright I will help you.” Meg sat up like lightning, flipping her hair up and tears in her wide eyes.

“You will?” She sniffled, he simply nodded. “But how? I don’t even know what you can do for me.”

“Well it seems that all you are worried about is the singing. I do not even think you need to worry about it. The acting will be the easiest thing for you. I will help you with the singing, but you do not need much help, it is up to you to find the confidence.” He sat down again while she stood up.

“No you can’t do that.” Meg took to pacing and biting her long thumb nail, not enough to break her well kept nails, but it made her point.

“And why not?” He sounded genuinely wounded, must be his form of acting. Meg turned around quickly to face him.

“Because… Well because. I-I y-you. Ugh you know why.” She turned around to continue walking to the throne.”

“No. I really do not.” Meg collapsed in the throne. “Why could I not? I have taught a student before, and she is a very successful performer.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Yes and see where that’s got us!” Meg snapped at him, they now sat in even more silence. She refused to look at him, she could tell he was radiating with anger. 

Meg couldn’t believe she snapped at him like that. It was neither of their faults Christine was happy. It’s what all three of them wanted, to be happy. The other two couldn’t be angry at the other just because she was happy, It’s cruel to think that. Cruel to her, and especially cruel to them. He opened the score to Stephanos aria “Que Fais-Tu” 

“Maybe you are right. Maybe you can not perform Stephano as you say. You have the boyish charm, everyone saw it in Il Muto. But can you sing the role?” Erik shifted into his imitating self quickly. “Maybe? No.” His drug out the last word for an extra moment of taunting. 

“Maybe not.” He watched as Meg grew stiff with terror, he spoke in the same tone that petrified her in her dream. How did he know? She thought. Her reaction is not what he expected, she shrunk into herself, and her eyes grew wide yet again as she shook. Meg couldn’t reply, she didn’t know how. He watched her shake. 

“Maybe.” He could barely hear her response. She felt as though she would faint. Erik began to worry about her, she was pale, while her cheeks were a bright red. As lovely as she looked, it was worrisome. The adrenaline in her body made her limbs feel odd. More tears slipped from her eyes, but she didn't dare leave. She didn’t want to. She wanted them to move past it.

“I would like to help you.” He stood up and stood in front of her and held out his hands for her to grab. She stared at his hands then moved her eyes up to his. The compassion in his eyes confused her. How could he act as he just did, then act like this? Which was the sham? Or were both attitudes real? Slowly she outstretched both of her hands to his. He helped her stand but as she stood the room began to spin and she fell unconscious in his arms the same way she had the night they officially met. 

Meg woke to the noise of Christine's chatter, and flouncing around her dressing room after finally returning from a late lunch with Le Vicomte. She was confused, she didn’t remember what led her to this point, then it all hit her. The fight, the terror, all of it. Christine assumed Meg just fell asleep on her fainting couch waiting for her. 

“Oh he makes me so happy ‘Uerite!” Christine shocked Meg by calling her a nickname she hasn’t heard in a very long time. 

“I’m glad, ‘Stine!” Meg slowly sat up, rubbing her head.

“Come on! We have warm ups right now!”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Meg shot up only to end up back down again. “I need a moment.” Christine ran to Meg.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes I just stood up too fast.”

“I’m worr-” Christine began to protest but Madame Giry cut her off by telling them to come along.

“Alright Madame Giry.” Both Christine and Meg said, then all three left for the second cellar. Before they left Meg noticed her score and note with black edging on the trim on the floor. Meg snatched it before anyone could notice, she hid it from Christine and especially her mother who would recognize the signature style. Madame Giry and Christine began to chat with each other, while Meg walked a few steps behind. Meg quietly opened the letter.

“Meet me in my home whenever you like. We will work through your set, and have a meal. - E” He signed his initial in an overly dramatic fashion. Birds of a feather, and lovers of drama they both were. Meg slipped the note into the dark rehearsal dresses pocket. 

\-------------

“One day you will have to accept my invitation to dine with us.”

“And one of these days I won’t be too tired to entertain. It still feels nice to be invited. Really, thank you, sweets!” Meg hugged her equally bushy haired friend. “Now go! Go! GO! Young lovers!” Meg pushed christine into the arms of Le Vicomte waiting at the open door. The two acquaintances said polite goodbyes. Then Meg locked the door of the dressing room and disappeared into the mirror, score in hand.

\-------------

“I do not feel any better about this.” After dinner Erik played through the voice line of Stephanos aria on the piano. Meg had hummed the melody as she sightread. She was proficient, but humming is different than singing, and the only person she was afraid to sing in front of, was sitting just to her right. 

 

“Read the words. No rhythm. No pitch. Just read.” Meg nodded her head.

“Depuis hier je cherche en vain mon maître! Est-il encore chez vous? Mes seigneurs Capulet? Voyons un peu si vos dignes valets - À ma voix ce matin Oseront reparaître.” Meg paused and looked at him unsure before reading “Que Fais-Tu.”

“Que fais-tu blanche tourterelle, Dans ce nid de vautours? Quelque jour, déployant ton aile, Tu suivras les amours! Aux vautours, il faut la bataille, Pour frapper d'estoc et de taille - Leurs becs sont aiguisés! Laisse-là ces oiseaux de proie, Tourterelle qui fais ta joie Des amoureux baisers! Gardez bien la belle! Qui vivra verra! Votre tourterelle vous échappera, Votre tourterelle vous échappera. Un ramier, loin du vert bocage, Par l'amour attire, À l'entour de ce nid sauvage. A, je crois, soupire! Les vautours sont à la curée, Leurs chansons, que fuit Cythérée, Résonne à grand bruit! Cependant en leur douce ivresse Les amants content leurs tendresses - Aux astres de la nuit! Gardez bien la belle! Qui vivra verra! Votre tourterelle vous échappera, Votre tourterelle vous échappera,” Meg finished reading the connected pieces.

“Who is Stephano?” 

“He’s Romeo's close friend. He’s taunting the Capulets in this piece, he is using the symbol of the Capulets, the white dove, as a metaphor for Juliet. He’s saying that the dove will fly away from the family, to marry Romeo.” 

“And this makes the piece?”

“Arrogant.”

“Sing ‘Dupuis Heir’.” He gave her the starting note. Meg fixed her posture, and settled into a haughty form, similar to Serafimo, on the bench.

“Depuis hier je cherche - en vain mon maître! Est-il encore chez vous?” He couldn’t believe she wanted his help. She was good. Meg turned to him for for a reaction as she sang. “Mes seigneurs Capulet?”

“Go on.” She continued through the piece, it was rocky at times simply because she hadn’t heard the show in years, and she was sight reading. Through the little rehearsal Meg wondered how he used to teach Christine.

\--------

“You do know that you do not need my help, correct?” Meg turned Erik when he was accompanying her to her room. 

“What? Yes I do. Without you I would’ve demanded to the mangers to get them to give my role away. Your comment made me want to defy you.” 

“What comment?” She couldn’t tell if he was feigning confusion, or simply had forgotten.

“Maybe. No... Maybe not.” She said echoed his words and inflection with annoyance. “It made me want to prove it to you that I could indeed play Stephano. I guess that was your intention with that comment. Thank you.” Meg slipped the key to her room into the door. They whispered goodbyes, and both separated to finally sleep for the night. 

Meg laid in bed later, hoping that no nightmares would occur due to the awful tone he used with her earlier. She would never forget that he actually spoke to her in that way. Even if it was for dramatics.


	13. Chapter 13 - July 6, 1880

When Meg woke the next morning she was anxious and excited to start rehearsals for Romeo et Juliette. Monsieur Reyes always taught and rehearsed the ladies of the opera, while Monsieur Gardner taught and rehearsed the men of the opera. Madame Gardner, his wife, was in charge of the chorus. Because Romeo and Juliette was a very male heavy show, Monsieur Reyes took over some male roles. Being excited to have the two new stars of the opera under his wing, Reyes started the rehearsals for the show by scheduling both Christine and Meg for the same rehearsal spots. The entire opera acquired the show the day before, so luckily Reyes wouldn't be worried about either girl not knowing their pieces yet.

Meg came to the rehearsal room to find Christine chatting happily. It was a very nice sight indeed for Meg to see. Christine, radiant in a lilac gown with darker purple stripes on the skirt under the apron skirt of her fashionable bustle gown. The neckline modest, but a bit lower than a walking gown or riding habit. Her brown, bushy hair, with the top half tied into a pretty little updo. 

Meg was breathtaking in her own right, her hair in the same youthful style as usual. The top of her baby blue dress was a normal, well tailored bodice with elbow length sleeves bordered in lace. The skirt however, was different, her petticoats were a beautiful cream linen, the over skirt the same lovely shade of blue, but the whole skirt decorated with alternating white stripes in the fabric. Both pieces made out of a light linen so her ensemble was airy and moved with her body wonderfully, especially since there was no bustle cage to be detected. Meg had purchased the gown right as spring began to close, she was so happy to have this gown that positively oozed Parisian summer.

“Meg! I'm so excited to play Juliette. Oh! I must say I'm a tad jealous of you playing Stephano, I do like trouser roles, Serafimo was so much fun. ‘Que Fais-Tu’ will be so wonderful for you!” Christine said in her normally bubbly tone.  
“Thank you, Christine! I could do without playing another trouser role, but I'm happy to be in the show just as well. Next time you will have to play the trouser, or I'll just have to get a dress!” Both giggled as Reyes waltzed into the room, he set his pieces down and began to warm them up together. It was lovely, they both still had the exact same range. They even played their little game of who can fake a lower range the longest. Both sounding terrible by the end, but Christine will shout it to her grave that she won on that very day! 

“Juliette! Let's begin at the top of the show, skip your piece with your nurse.” Christine looked petrified, she always did this before a new role. She'd be so ecstatic that she gets to do a role, corps, chorus, or not, that she would forget she actually had to prepare for it. Sitting tall in her chair, both girls had settled onto a seat after warming up to sing, Christine held up her score and they slowly, added to the pieces phrases by phrase. After about a full hour, Reyes told Christine to rest. They sadly had to skip her lines before “Je Veux Vivre” because the girl set to sing the nurse fell ill.

“Stephano! We won’t start at the top for you, I want to get started on your aria. Let's start at the top of act III.” Meg had stopped paying attention some time ago. 

“Yes.” Meg sat up, and opened her full score to “Dupuis Hier” 

“Et Mademoiselle.” The accompanist started the opening of act III with a little trouble, the score was new to him as well. Meg couldn't decide to either fly through the piece, or play it phrase by phrase. Monsieur Reyes was sure of their sight reading abilities, he taught them himself. So she sang the first question of the song. 

“Again, and add the next phrase.” Do she added the second question with little trouble.

“And the next” On and on until they came to the actual piece “Que Fais-Tu” 

 

They had jumped to Christine's big solo as Juliette, and Christine flew right through it because the piece was so recognizable. The opera had done the show a few years before. Meg could remember sitting in the auditorium with Christine watching the leads rehearse. So Meg felt better about being able to fly right through her solos as Stephano. Both girls left feeling very good about their potential roles.

\-----------

“To lunch?”Christine grabbed onto Meg's arm as they walked away from the room towards the front of the house so Christine could return to Mama’s house for there was no show that day. “I asked Mama if you could come back with me after rehearsal for lunch. It’s up to you, but you are welcome!”

“Sure, I haven't seen Mama Valerius in so long. She is in good health today?” Meg opened the door for them, Christine looked so delighted.

“Yes she's doing much, much better this week.” Mama Valerius, in her old age, began to lose her good health. Some days she would barely move in her bed, others she was bustling around the kitchen and preening after Christine. “Her good mood brightened at the mention of your name. She said, ‘Oh the little blonde! The dear will break my heart if she doesn’t come!’ ” Meg pushed into Christine's side.

“What! You did not tell me that! What if I had said no! Would you have ever told me that, and let the poor woman suffer!?” Christine pushed back as they giggled.

“No I was saving it for when you said no!” Meg scoffed as Christine wrapped their arms around each other. 

 

When they entered the back door of Mama’s home Meg was greeted with a yell and a great big hug. Meg smelled the food Mama had been bustling to prepare with her newfound strength. A wonderful lunch with tea was prepared. They sat, ate, and talked for hours until it was almost supper, Meg felt she had overstayed her welcome, and made to leave. It was hard to walk away from the warm home Christine now occupied. 

“I think it's time for me to go.”

“No!” Christine yelled quickly.

“Yes Christine! If I stay, you’ll never get rid of me. Trust your memory, we had to split rooms because we were always together, and when we did we cried like fools. Imagine if we had to do that again!” 

“Fine. Go, Go break my heart.” Meg rolled her eyes from her place standing next to Christine's chair in the drawing room. She kissed their cheeks and they walked her to the door. The days were still long from the summer. Mama begged Meg to return to her once again soon in their farewells. 

“Goodnight Christine, see you tomorrow for Il muto.”Christine grasped Meg in a deep hug and clung to her as if they weren't going to see each other again soon. Christine kissed Meg’s cheek and let her go, into the soft July evening. Meg walked to the opera with excited leisure, she planned on dining with Erik. Her nights with him have been some of the calmest and happiest nights since Christine's absence in her life.


	14. Chapter 14 - Early August, 1880

A few weeks had passed since that first rehearsal, showings of Il Muto had slowed down in preparation for Romeo et Juliette. Christine and Meg took their final bows as the two most important leads in Il Muto with tears and excitement filling their minds. Now the entire opera was closed to finalize the show. The opera, as the premier date arrives, starts to to rehearsals a full act a day. This day was Act III day. 

Meg stood clad in what some would call her best color, a pair of high waisted velvet trousers dyed a dark pine green almost black color. The shoes, almost slipper like, where dyed the same shade of green. The long sleeved doublet was embroidered with silver and black thread in a very intricate pattern of alternating green, silver, and black lines that meet in the middle of the shirt at the closure. The lines meet in a way that makes each colored section look like arrows pointing downward.

The garment had a high neck, with a lace collar peeking out. Over the thick garments, Megs costume has a sleeveless overcoat in a more vibrant lighter pine green, where the sleeves ended on the piece hung strings of beads for added texture. The overcoat flares at the waist, giving the costume great movement a she walked. Instead of fitting a wig over her thick hair, they let her pin her hair with a clip to make low ponytail, the same way she did for Serafimo.

So Meg was standing on a set of stairs on stage-left. One leg on one stair, while the other was propped a few steps above. She was standing with one arm extended as a costumer fixed her sleeve that gained a rip through it from a practiced sword fight just minutes before. Meg looked down to the director, as he explained to her the way he wanted her to move on the changed set. She had been rehearsing in a different style stage, then last moment a new one had to built, this demand came from the managers. 

The new set was being tested that day. For this scene the set was a large, raised circle, with a raked surface, that almost took up most of the stage space. The center of the circle held the image of a crescent moon, the moon could be changed with a fitted sheet to symbolize the change in days. Because the story happened so quickly, there were very few fitted sheets. On the outer foot of the circle, a ring of golden burnt orange held images of the star signs every few feet. On the edge of the circle, on stage left, held a little set of eight stars that led to a painted facade of the Montague home, the other side of the stage held no stairs, but a standing space below the circle leading to a painted facade of the Capulet house. 

Both facades were a very similar warm stone color, neither stood out, but it was noticeable that both were different. Behind the circle on the back of the stage was yet another circle, only this time the circle stood high facing the audience. The circle was very similar to the one on the floor, it held an image of a crescent moon that could be changed, this image held border with no images as well. The set was particularly modern, and like nothing done before.

The director told her halfway through explaining an intricate idea she grasped, but the idea wasn't good. He decided to tell her to do what ever felt natural, but throw her shoes at the Capulet facade before “Que Fais-Tu.” Meg nodded and began to think about how’d she would start, a stagehand brought her polished sword back to her, and she placed it into the sheath at her waist. Everyone set to start the act, even the curtain was closed to make the cast used to the start. 

“Stephano! Are you ready?” Reyes yelled behind the curtain.

“Oui!” She yelled back. Just moments before the dresser finished the stitch, and Meg settled onto the stairs in a relaxed, masculine pose. Her green cap in one hand, the music began and the curtain rose. Almost immediately she started her mocking “Dupuis Hier” She stood up and placed her hand around her mouth and yelled to the Capulet facade the last line. Then the music continued without her singing, in the break Meg tore of her shoes one at a time and threw them at the facade. Faking panic she ran back to the stairs and began “Que Fais-Tu” In this piece Meg decided to just walk around the circle, and make mocking faces and make masculine gestures. 

When a pack of Capulets entered the stage, Meg gained an overexaggerated cocky attitude, even though she was the only Montegue around. The Capulet chorus sung as Stephano and a single Capulet, Gregoire, fought one to one. The last moments of the fight Meg ended, facing up, back on the stairs, the single Capulet ready to kill Stephano, just before a blow could be executed. The final blow is blocked by a Montague, as more of the family surrounds stage left. A duel is finally started between important members of each household, Tybalt and Mercutio. Mercutio is the first slain, then Romeo, determined to avenge his family, begins to duel with Tybalt. Tybalt is then slain by Roméo. The act finishes with Romeo, who is banished by Le Duc. Thus creating a catalyst for this great tragedy.

After a long day of rehearsal, Monsieur Reyes ordered everyone of the opera to go home and rest for the next day of rehearsal where they will do act IV. Meg stayed at chatted with her mother and some fellow chorus-corps members. Finally Meg slipped away to meet Erik for dinner, Meg was sad she couldn’t chat with Christine, but Meg was a little used to that by now. Christine was not to be seen in the opera that day. She ran away to Perros-Guirec the night before to see her father's grave, and clear her head. Christine had done this a few times before, usually when a new show is debuted. 

“Oh Erik! Please forgive me for staying away for so long, but I did bring a lovely book I think would be nice to read.” Meg found the drawing room empty to her surprise. “Erik?” She asked turned to the end of the room, away from the doors. What Meg didn’t see was the man in question coming from the kitchen clad in a very extravagant apron, covered in various foods.

“Meg?” She turned to the tall figure, only to find the usually daunting man, looking like a perfect provencal chef. The image was certainly hysterical. Meg covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “What is it?” His curious tone made her fall to her knees, her tiredness made the situation ten times funnier than it actually was.

“I-I”m sor- s-orry!” She managed to say between her laughs. Erik realized the comical aspect of his appearance and tore off the apron and rushed to pull the little chit off of the floor. Erik wrapped his long arm around her shoulder, and his right hand accidentally caressed her right hand as they stood up together.

“Come along.” Meg turned into him still giggling. 

“I’m sorry boulanger! What are you making Monsieur?” 

“Alright.” He led her to the table to the side of the kitchen, and sat her down.

“No really, what are you making?” 

“You’ll see.” Meg huffed and begun to talk through her day. She always seemed lighter down below in the opera house. Meg as a whole has been in a much better emotional state then she was at the end of June. Now at mid-August, she not only seemed lighter, she felt it. 

She was quietly appreciated above the surface, and quietly adore down below. Not that either would admit it to each other, or to themselves. Both Meg and Erik were quick witted and incredibly romantic in their sensibilities. That must be the reason they are so drawn to each other, it was like they were both magnets, searching for an opposite end to attach onto. They found each other, but neither would admit it because neither really knew it themselves. After the meal, they sat Meg at the love seat usually occupied by Erik, and Erik sat at the throne now claimed by Meg.

“We might have to switch our usual spots, you look like a perfect Gothic painting in that seat.”

“Shall I start ‘Le Diable Amoureux’?” Meg nodded as he began to read. Meg stared at him, trying to pinpoint his features. He was tall, taller than any man she had ever met. Meg would describe Erik as a perfectly middle-aged man with a solid frame, and a tall face. The side of his facade that wasn’t covered by the mask was smooth, and delicately aged. He was handsome with pepper hair, a streak of silver-grey hair at the front where a cowlick came from whatever was under the mask. 

Watching his face move as he read to her this time, usually it was Meg reading, she finally began to wonder about the mask. It struck her just then that she never really thought about the mask, that she had never asked, or made any inquires about it. She knew he had a deformity under the mask, there have been tales of his appearance for most of her life, but were they true? Christine shouted from the rooftops telling Paris the horror of his appearance and actions, but Meg never heard her because of the humming in her mind. He finished a chapter, and took a moment before starting again.

“Erik? May I ask you a somewhat delicate question?” He looked at her casual form, and the face staring at the floor. “Why have we never spoken of your mask? I mean it doesn’t bother me, I was just wondering.” Both began to panic. What to say? What to do? Meg refused to look at him. Was he furious? He couldn’t help become a little mad, the curiosity of women would be his downfall. Meg will shout to her grave about how well he kept his composure, she was afraid of a reaction that could compare or overpower his actions in her horrible nightmare some time ago. She didn’t see it but he gave a soft smile before he spoke.

“How long have you been wondering? What made you inquire now?” Meg laughed with a little fear, and spoke again.

“It was just now when I was watching you read. The thought began to nag me. It never did before.” Meg slowly trailed up his form, she stopped when she saw the mask she had memorized so many times in his hand. She made a tiny gasp, which of course he detected. Meg finally trailed up to his face, somehow shocked to find the mask gone. The tears in her eyes that refused to fall, finally did. Not because he was hideous, but because he trusted her enough. They looked each other in the eyes for a long time, both with soft smiles.

Meg finally stood, walked the few extra feet and knelt in front of him, he stared at her with wild, glowing eyes. She reached for the mask, and held the warm piece in both of her hands with church-reverence. Meg then did something that he never would have guessed, She flipped the side that met with his skin, ran her fingers around the side and laid a gentle kiss on the cheek of the mask. Hugging the mask to her chest, she looked at him again to find tears to match hers. 

“Thank you.” She whispered to him, deciding to remove some of the tension in the room, Meg carefully turned to sit on the floor and laid her back on the arm of the throne, and settled with her legs propped in front of her. She set the mask smooth side out onto her knees, and lightly ran her fingers abou the facade she knew so well. She looked up to him again, his eyes full of wonder.

“Do you mind starting again?” Meg turned around to the mask again. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.” Eriks thoughts were going a mile a minute. Who was she? Why did she not run? Do not fail her now. Erik picked the book up again, and flipped to the first page, and began again. 

After some time, Erik noticed the blonde head resting on his leg. No one knew how long she had been asleep, she seemed so peaceful. He reached down and took his mask out of her clutched hands. He stared at the spot she kisses, an invisible mark of her compassion sealed forever on the inner surface of the mask. Slowly he returned the piece back onto its resting place, he found after years of trails, a metal wire was the perfect way to keep the mask in place. After he set the book to the side he reached down to pick the dainty figure, holding her bridal style on the throne felt completely natural. There was no way this would be an odd sight to either of them, but to the rest of the universe except the little, lovely cat knew of the extent of their relationship. Only they knew the boundaries, and today Meg tested them. Erik felt a pull to kiss her forehead, as an act of returned compassion, but before he could act on the impulse, Meg began to shuffle in his arms.

“Hello.” Meg whispered with her eyes still closed, she could feel his cold hands caressing her arm and knee. He hushed her as she stretched a bit, and settled into him once again. This time she didn’t bring her bag to their meeting, he wondered where her key was. He just then noticed the key hanging from a chain on her delicate neck. Erik soon left his home to return her to her comfortable bed up above. When he was just about to the passage that showed her hallway Meg whispered into his neck.

“This happens quite a bit, you carrying me up to my room.” She sounded like sleep personified. Meg felt his little laugh deep in the chest her head laid upon. The feeling struck every inch of her body.

“Would you like to take off your key so I do not have to put you down?” Meg took her hand that was softly scratching his neck with her nails and grabbed the necklace off and put it in the hand under her knee. Her swiftly unlocked the locked the door and carried her to her bed. Before he placed her, he bent over so that she could open her covers, and then he slipped into the warm bed. Of course Meg whispered a warm thank you, and snuggled into a comfortable position. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Dear.” Meg whispered the last part a little softer than before. Quietly he locked her door with the key from the inside before he left, and returned it to her vanity. Taking a moment to look at her already sleeping form, he slipped away from the room into his own solitary space, cellars below.


	15. Chapter 15 - Mid August 1880

Meg Giry found herself running backstage from her dressing room that she now shared with Christine. They even put another vanity and little tables behind respective changing screens into the room. Christine's side adorned in blues, while Megs was a dark green. These colors were made their respective complexions and eyes look simply divine so they use them whenever they can. Christine was already on her way a few doors ahead.

“Wait!” Meg kept running, in full costume. She thought the trousers would make running easier, but the prop sword on her hip made it harder.

“Meg! Come on we have to go!” Before every show opens, the whole cast and crew meets on the stage before the curtain rises to say some encouraging words, and get everyone in the correct mindset. The opera can be like a family and not a machine at times. They ran up just as Monsieur Reyes asked Madame Giry to smash her cane against the stage. 

“Here we are. I expect a good show tonight, you have all worked very hard.” He kept talking, and said the same words he said before every show. “Break a leg! GO!” Then every member of the cast and crew broke away from the group to putting the finishing touches on appearances. Meg and Christine went deep into the wings and they hugged and said lovely encouraging words until the curtain rose. Then they waited for their respective cues and off they went.

The two divas collapsed onto the floor of their dressing in a heap after they took their bows, opening nights were so tiring for the two, so they supported each other all the way to the dressing room. Dressers waited to take the costumes, as soon as Meg was laced into her corset, and her long petticoats were tied, she found her way to the fluffy rug, next came Christine, similarly dressed, who threw her body over Meg’s. 

“Thank you ladies, We’ll take it from here.” Meg called to the dressers who promptly left, just before the last closed the door she called to tell them Le Vicomte was waiting.

“Tell him he has to WAIT!” Christine called loud enough for Raoul to hear. The girls giggled and finally pulled themselves off of the floor are adorned their dressing gowns. “May I let him in?”

“Yes dear.” Meg sat down to un-clip her hair and brush the bottom through.

“Come in, darling.” Christine pulled him in and he gave her a great bouquet, and he laid one about half the size on the end of Megs table. She turned to face him, brush in hand.

“For you, Mademoiselle.” He said with perfect aristocratic form.

“Oh Monsieur Le Vicomte! They are lovely, lovely.” She said as she smelled the fragrant roses. She opened her arms to give him a hug, and he met her warmly. “Thank you very much.” 

“No problem, you were both divine, and I believe I told you to call me Raoul.” 

“Oh! No, no, no when you give me things like that, you are Monsieur Le Vicomte” Christine then called to him from the fainting couch.

“Raoul I’m afraid I cannot do supper, I’m far too tired!” 

“Alright, darling. Are you sure?” She confirmed her fatigue with him and they sat together and had a nice chat, Meg heard every word, even the ones they tried to conceal. She couldn’t help but be a little jealous. They were engaged, though secret, it wouldn’t be surprising to anyone after they saw the couple together. They were a little picture of love.

“I’m going to bed!” Meg declared, deciding to give them peace, to say the words they were keeping hidden. She absolutely refused to hinder love. She made her way to Christine and planted a kiss on her cheek as she stood in front of the couch and said some loving compliments to Christine, Raoul grasped her hand when she turned to him to say goodbye. He kissed her hand like every aristocrat is taught to do when greeting and saying farewells to a lady. Meg kissed Christine's cheek again, and before she pulled away completely she spoke to Christine.

“Don’t let him go.” With a wink she went for the door, and slipped away and made for her room a few floors up.

As Meg made her way up the stairs, she came to her hall and stared at the continuing flights up. Just above this floor was an empty hall of room, some for storage, some empty for board, and just above that was a hall that led to another entrance to the roof. Gazing at the stairs her mind wandered back to the love birds down below. Again she was a little jealous, not that Christine had Raoul, but because the two each had a love, someone to say sweet nothings and everythings to. She decided to make her way up to the roof. As she reached the door she realized what she wanted, a companion to love and to cherish, till death did them part. Meg was jealous because she had no one like that. Or did she? She wondered. 

Meg sat on a bench-like ledge on the roof a few yards from the real ledge of the roof, and thought about the man in the fifth cellar. She thought about how she felt with him, and how they spoke about everything, and nothing, for hours and hours. Her eyes grew wide as one hand covered her fast-beating heart and the other covered her butterfly-filled stomach. She then on the very roof she met him on, made a revelation that struck her to her core.

She loved Erik.

She had seen his murderous side, and she loved him. She had been terrified by him, and she loved him. She felt like a queen in a castle in his home, and she loved him. She ate his wonderful meals, and she loved him. she read him stories, and she loved him. She felt whole in his presence, and she loved him. She had seen his face, and she loved him. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. 

Meg stood staring at the glittering late summer city of Paris. After a time she quickly turned to run to the door, She wanted to charge into his home and scream the three little words to him. But after a few steps, she stopped. Meg couldn’t run to him, she couldn’t just say it. It had to natural, but isn’t this natural? A series of events leading to the moment of a little clarity. She couldn’t run to him. She just couldn’t. She shook her head as she spoke quietly to herself.

“What are you thinking about?” Meg jumped and turned to the voice, her hand over her heart. 

“He’s here. The Phantom of the Opera.” She quietly said the words she had yelled so many times before, it didn't feel right to yell on that roof tonight. She could see his legs in the moonlight, they began to move toward her. She couldn’t help but let a very little, almost undetectable, gasp escape her lips, when his yellow eyes met hers. Her wide ones, staring at him with a newfound adoration. She faltered a little when he chuckled at the old phrase she used to use so much. Every time he did laugh, the sound would resonate in every inch of her body. 

“I went to your room, to give you this. When I found you gone I decided to check here first. Now, from experience you come here in a time of crisis. Is there a crisis?” She really had only come here in a times where she demanded clarity from the universe. The night they met, The night of that terrible, awful nightmare, and now, the night she realized she was undoubtedly devoted to him.

“I…” she paused, searching for the words to say. “I came to think, it’s been a very rapid, and hectic few months.” Another pause followed. “But I’ve been happier, somehow.” She noticed then that they were standing in the same spot he pulled her up roughly by the arm the night they met.

“You seem lighter, in a way.” He added.

“When we met. On this very roof. I was a very different person, I was in such a lonely place.” Meg looked not at him, but at Paris with a content smile on her face. She didn’t see the look of concern that definitely adorned the unmasked side of his face, and hopefully the other as well. “But that's changed now! Christine's come back to me in a way, now that were performing together again. Being a soloist is a lonely job, in operas, and in ballet. Also, I have you.” He watched as her vibrant, flushed face turned to him, the smile she wore was without a trace of deception. 

“You do spend most nights in my home, but I would not attribute that to your overall happiness.” He said in his usual, nonchalant tone.

“You don’t honestly believe that do you? I think I’ve made an effect on you as well. You’ve only been on a very few rampages since I’ve known you.” She added with a delightful laugh. Meg walked to the bench and sat down with one leg crossed in front of her as she sat to the side. She patted the spot next to her, and he awkwardly sat to the front. 

Marguerite Giry was like a little ballet rat with a beau at this moment. Now, only in this instant, he was unsuspecting and didn't seem like one to return such romantic sentiments. Just a month and a half ago, he was madly in love and quite protective of the woman who was, in the simplest form, her sister. Christine is too self-sacrificing to deny the plan The Phantom had set up for her. He planned to use Meg as bait, trade her life of love in the Vicomtes arms, for a life of powerful music blanketed by the layers of stone and glamour in his underground home to save the not-so-innocent blonde. Meg had used the truth to save her sister. On that night Meg was the unsung hero in Christine's life. With her bitter, truthful words directed toward the wretched man, Meg released Christine's freedom to the world. 

The saddest bit about the whole situation was the fact Christine didn’t know it. Erik was too angry to return as her angel of music, so Christine lived in fear everyday of her life that her angel of darkness would return and kill the love of her life. Christine was afraid to make a single plan in fear of her angels backlash. Meg assumed that was the reason for the secret engagement everyone suspected, and only five knew for sure. 

“Congratulations, you make a wonderful Stephano.” He spoke to Meg who was staring past his face onto another angle of the glittering Parisian night. She looked to him as he looked down to his pocket watch. “Just after midnight. I also believe Happy Birthday is in order.” She shook her head. It couldn't be, was it really August sixteenth?

“How did you-?” 

“Do you remember while you were reading to me from a book, I can not remember the title, somebody mentioned August sixteenth and you said ‘That’s my birthday’?” His tone grew excited to mock her. Meg began to giggle.

“I remember now!” Meg took the pink rose he held out to her. “I’m afraid you know so much about me, and I still know so little about you. I don’t even know your birthday!” She was visibly distressed.

“That is quite alright, I am not known for telling all of my secrets.” Erik watched Meg caress the petals, and the warm look in her eyes as she looked at the delicate flower she was already thinking about preserving.

“It’s beautiful, the perfect pink bloom!” She lifted the rose to her nose, and smelled the light scent, then tilted it to him to do the same.

“I left a box in your room.”

“A box?” 

“It is a gift. For you.”

“No! Why would you do that? I didn't tell you when my birthday was for a gift! Erik no.” He stood up and helped her to her feet.

“It’s time for the birthday girl to go to bed. Come, mademoiselle.” He settled her arm into his, and walked her to the door she came from. As they walked Meg kept telling him how he shouldn’t have, and how she felt bad that he took even more time out of his day to pay attention to her. She was going hysterical, mostly because he didn’t respond, except the smile that graced his lips. Coming to her door, the quiet of the hall was exemplified by the dead of night. She opened her door and opened it to see a white box, tied with a pink ribbon what matched the light pink of the rose in her hand.

“I am not taking it back, so accept it, or I will be deeply offended.” Meg scoffed at his teasing manner. She wanted to slip the three important words to him then, but before the words could form in her mouth he spoke again, Erik's words caressed her ear. “Enjoy.” She decided turn and basically jumped into his arms.

“Thank you.” She whispered to him after he caught her, neither of her legs on the ground, one bent up behind her. He returned her to the ground safely. With her still in her arms he spoke again.

“My birthday in September thirty-first. If you still wanted to know.” Meg squealed as softly as she could. She let go of him, regretting it almost immediately. 

“I did want to know! Thank you, good night Erik.” He gave a soft reply, and she slipped into her room and locked the door. The smile on her face was so large her cheeks began to hurt. Skipping to the bed she sat in front of the box. Then decided to get ready for bed before she opened it. She slowly went through her nighttime regime, enjoying the routine of winding down for the night. Meg settled on top of her covers when she was done. She crossed her legs under her and pulled the box closer. What could it be? Why did he go to so much trouble?

Gently untying the pink ribbon, she smoothed the kinks made by the box for a while. Then she gently lifted the top of the box. Another obstacle, soft pink tissue paper laid around the contents. She softly unfolded the paper, and let out yet another very little gasp. A pool of dark jewel tone emerald sat under yet another white box tied in a similar, thinner pink ribbon. She picked up the smaller box and untied the ribbon, and opened it to find something that made her too surprised to gasp. A necklace with a delicate gold chain held a pendent with a teardrop emerald that matched the color of the fabric underneath. Gold trio-claws held the gem into place, at the top of the gem a little loop attached to the little chain. Under the little box, on top of the green pool, sat a letter.

“I found it hard to choose. I felt that a small piece would be best. - Erik” Of course the note was extravagant with red calligraphy. She decided to lift the pool of fabric, gently she unfolded the piece to find a lovely silk shawl. Meg was known for walking around in her rehearsal dress wrapped in a shawl.

Quickly she got up, moved the large box to the fainting couch to the other side of the room, then she put the necklace in her jewelry box on her vanity. She placed it gently in, and admired the piece and the box, a birthday present from her mother on her just ten years ago. Then folded the shawl and hugged it to her again. Meg slipped under the covers and kept the shawl to her chest, she noticed the faint scent of him lingered on the cloth, and she fell into a restful, gentle sleep soon after she settled.


	16. Chapter 16 - The morning of August 16, 1880

Waking up to business as usual, Meg dressed for class in her normal ballet-corps white degas-style dress. As she was about to leave she looked at the necklace and put it on. Thankfully the chain was long enough that the pendent could be hidden under the low neckline of her dress. Meg longed to grab the deep green shawl and wear it to rehearsal, she reached for it and held it reverently. It was a very large square, the size of an extravagant Indian shawl, the edges were lined with threads tied into little tassels every couple of inches. She admired the few inches around the border, it was embroidered with green thread of the same color, the stitches were in intricate swirls that led to the tassels. From afar it was just a plain a beautiful sea of green, but up close you saw the craftsmanship. Did she dare? What could she say if someone asked about it?

She did dare, she wrapped the cloth around her in the usual way she did. It was larger than her other ones, but it looked so lovely draped around her form. She took her bag with her shoes down the stairs. About half way down she came upon the hall Little Jammes and Brigette shared. They were a pair always together, just how Meg and Christine used to be. Meg was about to start the flight down when they called to her.

“Meg!” She turned to the voices, it was nice to see them, they grew up together. 

“Hello! I feel like I haven't spoken to you in so long.” Meg longed to chat like little girls with them, and Christine. They would sit on the carpeted floor of the ballet dressing room and sit with candle, snacks, wine, and tell stories deep into the night. 

“Yes, I saw a bit of your Stephano, you’ve been doing so well in operas recently.” Meg then thanked Cecile, and smiles bright. Brigette added a little compliment that meant the world to Meg. Brigette was just sixteen, while Cecile was seventeen, they had about the same age difference as her and Christine. 

When Christine came to the opera under Madame Giry’s wing. Meg felt like it was her job to be the big sister to the little, wild haired girl draped in a red scarf. That first night they had set up a bed in Meg's room, the opera employed many more dancers a that time. That night Meg heard Christine crying her little eyes to sleep. After a few minutes of sniffles Meg called to the girl just a year younger than her. Christine thirteen, a few months after her departure from her little love, and Meg at Fourteen. Meg remembered the night quite well.

\-----------

“Christine?” The sniffles stopped immediately in an attempt to hide them. “Christine.” Meg sat up and faced the brunette. “I understand if you don't want to talk to me, this change is quite hard. But if you do.. I’m here. In fact I welcome it, I don’t you to cry yourself to sleep every night. That be just awful, I don’t want anyone to live like that. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m talking so much all of a sudden. I think you bring it out in me.” Meg giggled. Christine wiped her tears, and sat up.

“Madame Giry mentioned earlier that I lost my father. He is very dear to me. Maman Valerius said that this would be good for me. I think so too, but it’s all happening very fast.” Meg understood, and she stood to sit on the bed next to Christine.

“I want to be your friend Christine, if you let me.” Christine laughed through her drying tears.

“I think you already are.”

“Quite right. I do hope dancing become fun for you, I don’t want you to dread being here.” Christine threw her arms around Meg, the force caused Meg to fall back, they giggled a little too much.

“I already like it here much more, I’m ready to learn with you. I do like dancing, but I don’t want to be alone. I feel much better now.” They sat on Christine's bed for a while, just talking until they both fell asleep. The next morning they chatted and giggled uncontrollably every moment they weren’t under the gaze of Madame Giry's eyes in rehearsal. Madame Giry was sure she made the right choice when she saw her daughter blossom from the new found friendship.

\---------------

Meg stayed with the girls for a while until rehearsal started, Somehow it felt like what her life was like a few months ago. But the absence of Christine was felt among every member of the corps. Christine was a light that when taken away everything in the room just felt incomplete, but life goes on. Meg realized that long ago. Meg missed her life as a heavily active member of the corps. With the newfound lightness she felt in her life, Meg was determined to become a little more active in her sphere again. Even if it only meant that she sat on that dressing room floor for a few nights here and there, and had some well needed girl-talk. Meg couldn’t help it, she was a fool for gossip, and fool for the rouge attitudes the ballet girls only had with each other. 

Meg was met by light ‘Happy Birthdays” all day, and a little box her mother had her open after rehearsal. Every Year Madame Giry would give Meg a new pair of pointe shoes every year, she went through so many pairs a month now, but when she was younger, her mother told her that she could switch to the block shoes by putting a pair in her birthday gift. Meg squealed at the pink shoes, and hugged her mother for a long time and yelled about how excited she was. So it became a tradition that she would get a new pair, and other item. 

Meg had lunch with her mother at the cafe L’Opera, Meg loved her mother, the odd thing about their relationship was the fact that they didn’t have the typical mother-daughter type, but they had what some would say, a close mentor-student relationship. It was sometimes odd to talk about most topics.

“I should tell you.” This caught every bit of Meg's attention. “We will be starting rehearsals for Coppelia soon.” 

“That's the one with a doll? Good, it’s so odd not to be preparing for one.” Meg grabbed her mother's hand in a panic. “I’m allowed to do it right?!” Meg fell back in her chair with a dramatic moan. Now that Meg was heavily involved in operas she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to do what she's done her whole life.

“I was thinking you could play the doll, which is basically no dancing, but in the third there is a wedding celebration with two full solos. One could go to you. If that’s what you want.” Meg let out a big sigh of relief, and smiled at the idea of being involved in a ballet again. The other girls in the corps did dance in Romeo et Juliette, but Meg wasn’t involved. They left after a meal and some sweets arm-in-arm. Madame Giry walked Meg to the dressing room she now shared with Christine. 

“I must go love, I have to prepare the opera.”

“I understand, maman. I love you.” Madame Giry replied with the same last three words and kissed her daughter's cheek, then left the room quietly.


	17. Chapter 17 - The evening of August 16, 1880

Later, Meg sat on her luxurious vanity stool opposite Christine's waiting for the said brunette to arrive. Christine moved away from the opera the day after she debuted as Elissa, she had moved back into the room in the home of Mama Valerius. After the Phantom took her to his lair, and showed her an example of his temper, Christine knew she couldn't stay, for her own sake. She couldn't stay in the opera anymore, it was to emotional for the highly sensitive soul she had. When Christine moved from the room at the other end of the hall they shared, that’s when Meg felt the overwhelming sense of foreboding that came from Christine's empty room. 

So Meg sat in some silence until Christine, which at this moment was less than an hour away. Meg held her head in her hands and stared in the mirror at nothing in particular. She sat in her undergarments for the show, corset included, but she was wrapped in a dressing gown. This one was a dark burnt marigold, with embroidery around the the edges, and in a large triangle pattern staring at the shoulders, the stitches wrapped over the shoulders and worked its way down the lapels.

The yellow color worked beautifully with her big, wavy hair that was a lovely blend of strawberry blond and bright straw. She was draped in the green shawl, looking yet again like a the perfect subject for a painter to yell “Stop!” and paint her into a painting of a mystical creature. At some point her hand pulled the necklace from it’s hiding place and played with it in one of her hands.

“I’m glad you like the gifts.” She didn’t bother to snap her head to him, she simply looked into the mirror to find him with one arm resting on her changing wall. Smiling she set the necklace down on her chest lightly, and turned around on the spinning stool to him. She leaned back onto the vanity table in an extravagant, leisurely pose. 

“They are too much, but I’m afraid you’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.” She clutched both items in each hand for dramatic effect. 

“I would not dream of it, green suits you too well.” Meg motioned for him to sit down on the fainting couch.

“Thank you.” She paused for a few moments. “This is risky.” Meg stated in a very frank tone. “Christine, or my mother could walk in before you had the chance to even hide.” Meg was worried, how would she explain any of this to the ones she loved most.

“Would that be so bad.” Meg sprung up the moment he asked and she flew to the seat next to him.

“No! No.” The first was forceful, while the second was much gentler. “I just, I’m dreading explaining this to Christine. I mean I’m her sister, and you're-” Meg looked into his curious eyes, and took in a nervous breathe. The question was to tease her, not a genuine wondering. “Her tormentor, in a way.” She breathed out those last five words. She settled into the seat, and cast her eyes to the ground. She was wringing her hands on top of her crossed knees, the little tassels of the shawl mixing with her fingers. 

Erik stared at her hands, the graceful fingers with long, manicured nails moving in a sporadic rhythm. Every Time Meg went through this motion Erik became entranced by her hands. He now noticed that she only did that when she said something risky. Like he was going to fly off the handle at her words. In his past he would’ve, he used to be lonely, and hurt. There was a tear in his life, that now seemed to be slowly repairing. 

The anger he felt was still fresh, and seemed to be never ending, but in Meg’s presence all he seemed to care about was art, and beauty, and her well being. Neither knew the direction they were heading towards, but it was an unsung fact that they were in fact excellent friends. To the onlookers eye, they were courting. Neither were even close to putting moving past the threshold of a romantic relationship into words. He stretched his long arm to her cover her fidgeting hands with his own. His hand covered both of hers easily. She looked up to him slowly with eyes he couldn’t quite read. 

“I am a wretched creature Marguerite. I am made of devil's flesh, with a mind of an Earthly man. My motives… do not excuse my actions. I am created with a loving thought, and birthed with a damned existence, a mother's fear and loathing gained the moment the midwife placed me in my mother's eyesight, a mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing.” He took a pause to breath and gather his thoughts.

“ My life raised in loneliness continued to grow until I was old enough to depart. I followed a timeline across continents, as far as Russia, and as unexpected as Persia. My years of travel under the epithet of The Devil's Child, and The Keeper of Death. A scholar, an architect, a magician, a musician, a spectacle, everything but a face one longed to look at without a scrap to cover half of myself.” Every word hurt her more.

“I returned to the Opera Populaire, years after your ethereal birth. I came to find the woman who saved me from a Romani's curse of hell on Earth married, widowed, and a teacher in charge of a blonde creature, and other bouncing heads of hair ready to learn. You and your fellow dancers created a persona for a nameless, shapeless figure in the dark. ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ A rose by any other name would smell as wretched.” her stoic expression faltered just a tad then, the dam of emotions she built was strong, but every word he added cut deeper. 

“In years to come I lived under the moniker, I curated a reputation, a salary, and a life of beauty and artifice created around me cellars below. I was lonely, and my soul found another soul to leach upon in your… sister. I found her in a vulnerable state, in deep mourning for her dearly departed father.” The tears she held shed at the mention of Christine's father, the protective quality in herself begged her to claw at his skin. She kept the same expression as before, but continued to stare through a little flood of tears.

“A soul shredded by grief, searching, begging, pleading for a guide. ‘Father, where is he, where is the angel of music you promised me?’ She gave me a chance to be useful, not for my genius, or by the cursed face I possessed, but for the music I longed to give the world. She sung to her father's candle, and in that moment I knew she was the perfect vessel for my music. I spoke as her angel, she listened and somehow fooled herself into think I was her father.” He tried to continue but choked up. Clearing his throat, he continued.

“She loved her angel and I taught her much. I created the voice you hear now, no matter how distant it may be now. I assumed she could love a thing like me, and that assumption lead to an obsession. I grew to think I loved her, but I did not, I was in love with the idea of Christine Daae, born of the angels, made of air and heavenly sound. But she is a woman, just like the rest of your heavenly lot. Curiosity was what created the irreparable damage my temper caused.” He gripped her hand harder in preparation for what he was going to say.

“My gruesome domain collapsed as you told me she would never love me the way I desired. In fact you are one of the only few people who have ever told me the truth. I am vexed. I am furious that I was clouded by someone who could never love me, and had no intention to make me think she did. I am infuriated that I was so blinded, and in my newfound clarity. You, Marguerite Giry, treat me with peace, and everything a fixed obsession needs to be broken, a fixation that would lead to many more fatalities if I hadn’t stopped.” He searched her face fro any reaction, but when nothing visibly changed, he continued.

“I am not a salvaged man, or a redeemable one, but in your presence I am liberated from just a few hours of complete self-loathing. I am forever indebted to you, Marguerite, Goddess Among Men.”

His last sentence caused something to shift in her, the tears of sadness, the tears of hatred, now turned to tears of complete adoration. Every tear was a thousand proclamations of love. He assumed the tears were a swell of every emotion but love. Her eyes were wide, as they focused on wall past his face. Meg couldn't do anything but stay grounded by his hands on hers, and wait for him to do something, anything to spare her. Erik spoke again, this time in a very personal whisper.

“I am forever indebted to you, Marguerite, Goddess Among Men.” This time, he took both of his hands, and used them to pull hers to his otherworldly body, and he kissed each of her hands that were now curled around his, first he kissed each knuckle of both of her hands. As she didn’t stop him, he continued without hesitation. He turned her hands over and opened her feminine fingers, to kiss each one on both hands. 

He then kissed each palm and Meg soaked in each moment of intimacy with every bliss that could be bestowed upon her. After he kissed all around her palms Meg moved her left hand to the rippled skin on that side of his neck, and moved her right hand to the side to caress the smooth, gently aged cheek. He leaned his face into her right hand, and closed his eyes. His hand were still encasing hers, he was following her movements. 

She moved closer to him as she reached back with her left hand to weave her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. She laid her head on his chest, and listened to his heartbeat under his clothing. They stayed like this, like a statue made from unmovable marble, for an amount of time no one could tell for sure. Erik cried without detection, his eyes were dry as as fast as the tears came. While Meg heaved little sniffles against his heart. Her hand still on his unmarred cheek, and the other in his hair. 

She had actually almost fallen asleep when the grandfather clock on Christine's side chimed signaled the hour, just minutes before Christine's usual arrival time. The sound made her reluctantly move off of him, he held her hand to his chest, but it wasn't enough. Meg already felt the cruel cold of his absence, she should have never felt his body against hers in any way. She now wanted to scream off of the roof how cruel the universe was. She couldn’t speak, he had to leave or they’d be caught. Meg couldn’t send him away, not willingly.

“When are you expecting Christine?” Meg let a single strained laugh escape through her tears. 

“Within the half hour, any minute.” She couldn’t stop the tears falling from her stoic face.

“I should leave you.” Meg continued to shed little tears, as she silently nodded, if she spoke she’d fall into hysterics, she knew she would. He did exactly as he said he would and he stood, keeping her hands in one of his. He fiddled with the shawl and placed it on the shoulder it fell from. Pink flushed every inch he could see of her, the yellow of her dressing gown, the warm tinge of her hair, and the emerald from the necklace and shawl he gifted her only made the image of her as a romantic character in a painting even more ravishing. 

She was a goddess, not in the way Christine seemed to be an angel, but in the way she carried herself. Christine seemed to be made from heavenly material, while Meg was what created the heavenly material. The Olympian title would be reserved only for her until the end of his conscious existence. He kissed both hands once more, the way any gentleman would a lady. He then laid her hands back on her knees.

“Good night Marguerite. Please sleep after the show, you need rest.” He said to her gently, she stared at her hands, and focused on her breathing, until he reached the mirror door. She twisted her body to face him.

“Erik!” When he turned to her again, she nodded her head rapidly, like a little child. She was breathing hard, she couldn’t get a grasp on her emotions, she didn’t know why she felt this way. Meg watched him slip into the mirror door, and the fact that he could see her on the other side escaped her mind. As soon as the door closed her dazed expression, turned pained, he only watched for a few moments as she fell to the floor with her torso against the couch. He walked away to give her privacy and walked away with the faint sound of her sobs. Just as Erik turned down the concealed steps behind the mirror, Christine opened the door carrying shopping bags, and a dresser help her with bags behind her. 

“Oh Meg! See what I’ve got for you!” Christine looked down to find Meg with her body sitting on her knees, where Eriks feet just were and her arms and head draped over where he just sat. She held the shawl and clutched the corners around her, both of her hands were holding the fabric with an iron grip. She was leaning on her left arm and had her forehead pressed to her arm, as she looked toward Christine's wall. Meg was crying, loudly and her body shook with too many emotions to count. 

Christine dropped the bags and grabbed the ones from the girl behind her and sent her away, then closed the door and locked it for privacy. Christine in a panic to help her friend, wrapped her arms around her sister from behind and laid her head over Meg's for a time, just holding her. After a while Christine lifted her head and whispered.

“Meg, please tell me what makes you cry so. It pains me to much to see you in this much pain.” Christine brushed Meg’s hair aside, but she just shook her head.

“I can’t tell you, I’m so sorry, I don't know why I feel this way. It hurts. I can't.” She repeated the last two words over and over as she tried to sit up only to have Christine make her sit off of her knees, Christine sat so that Meg would lean back onto her chest. “I’m so sorry. I can't, I can’t.” Over and over again.

“Shh, it’s alright darling, please shh. Oh, love.” Christine's whispered in an attempt to calm Meg. After a while Meg started to wear herself out.. Madame Giry knocked on the door, the dresser must have told her what was happening.

“Girls, it’s me!” She yelled through the door.

“Do you want maman?” Meg shook her head. “Come in maman, I locked it.” Madame Giry unlocked the door to see her daughter in such a state she hadn’t seen since Meg was little, she had had a nightmare so bad that she was in hysterics for hours. Madame Giry sat on the floor in front of Meg and pulled her so that her head rested on her lap, and simply let Meg stay that way for a while. Meg kept repeating that she couldn’t tell, and refused to talk about it. Both Madame Giry and Christine sat on the floor with Meg and said soft, loving words, until Meg fell still and silent. A call man came to the room to declare one hour to showtime. Meg sat up, and made to stand.

“What are you doing?” Madame Giry asked as Christine went to help Meg stand.

“We have a show to do.”

“Absolutely not!” Madame Giry pleaded.

“Yes Maman, I have to it’s only the second show, please I need to.” 

“If you must.” Madame Giry said in defeat.

“I must.” Meg turned to a very worried Christine. “Chris, we should start getting ready.” Christine nodded her head with a smile and stood to receive the dressers and to start preparing for the show as usual. 

It was hard for them but they did the show as normal, Meg had pulled herself together, but her performance was lackluster compared to the night before. Still technically perfect but not as sublime. Even her bow was somewhat melancholy. After the performance, Raoul was not to be seen so it was just Madame Giry, Christine, and Meg. Christine was ready to leave, while Meg was in her dressing gown. Meg sat playing with the necklace in her hand and stared at the table in front of her as her mother brushed her long hair, Christine sat with her brush on the fainting couch. They kept conversation very light, for Megs fragile state. 

“Please go to bed, maman, you are tired and so are we.” Meg didn’t mean to sound harsh. Madame Giry set the brush down and kissed her daughter's forehead.  
“Thank you maman, thank you Christine, I love you both so very much.”

“And I love you.” Madame Giry said, Christine stood to close the door. When Madame Giry was gone, Christine spoke.

“I must go, Mama is expecting me. Are you alright? I don't want to leave you.” Meg begged Christine to go home safely, and Christine hastily complied. They kissed each other's cheeks and hugged goodbye. Christine tapped the box kept on her vanity that day, and told Meg “Happy Birthday Marguerite, happy one-and-twenty years love.” They hugged again, and Meg picked up her bag and the box and left with Christine.

“love you!” They both said at the same time and turned in opposite directions from the door and finally departed to their beds.

Meg thankfully cried no more that night, but longed for the touch of the man deep below the opera. She could smell his cologne in her hair when she turned her head. Backed up on her pile of pillows, she laid in her bed, wrapped in the shawl for a sliver of the feeling of him she experienced previously. It was as if the world had shown her an oasis in the desert only to find it was an illusion. Cruel, cruel world. His absence slaughtered her heart much more than she ever thought possible, and the thought that he would never touch her again killed her just the same.


	18. Chapter 18 - August 17, 1880

Meg sat propped on her pillows with a book to her chest the morning after Erik's confession. She remembered most of his words, the ones she didn't were unnecessary. She repeated them in her mind, and analyzed every word, syllable, and cadence in his speech. The words didn't come to her in a complete speech, but in fragments, sentences spoken in a cloud of her questions. 

“I am made of devil's flesh, with a mind of an Earthly man.” She spoke these words softly to no one in her quiet, empty room. He spoke of his birthed-deformity as if the twisted skin as gifted to him by the devil himself upon his placement in his mother's womb. Eriks mind was no doubt human and Earthly for when he spoke to her he was every pleasure and every pain of a man. He spoke of his mother, a figure never mentioned in their company before, they never spoke of family. Their conversations were each other, art, and all other things. 

“Russia and Persia!” She whispered a yell in disbelief. She knew he had traveled, and knew many languages, but she never really thought about it. He was well read, and educated, and so lovely at everything but socializing. Erik never received enough care, no one took him through infancy to adulthood, no one gave him the foundation most children get, it wasn’t his fault. All those stories about him murdering and torturing spread by the dwellers of the opera didn't totally make sense to her now. Erik was, well, Erik. He cared for her, and she liked it, she really did.

“A scholar, an architect, a magician, that's all very well for him.” She seemed a tad resentful as she brooded from her spot in her bed. “A MUSICIAN!” She scoffed. “The understatement of the century!” He made the most magnificent sounds with every bit of his soul. If only he would share his compositions with the world, he'd be as revered as Mozart! Beethoven! Chopin! Bach! He’d be loved, so very loved. If her love for him wasn't enough.

“I returned to the Opera Populaire, years after your ethereal birth.” She said incredulously. “Ethereal birth! Who does he think he is?!” She looked every bit of angry and confused as she felt. “Toying with my affections, does he even know my affections? He must! No he mustn't, for if he knew, and he wasn't returning them, well I’d, well i’d just die of embarrassment. Is this love? Why does it hurt so?” She whispered into the morning silence. Meg sounded like a courting school girl!

“The Keeper of Death” She spoke again into the silence. Meg could only imagine what that meant. She knew of Persia, he spoke of it one night to her, then never again. He showed her the mirrored chamber hidden in the back of the hall, a metal tree hung with a red Punjab lasso. He kept one of the mirrors open as she stepped around the eight sided chamber, even with one side the closed shape broken she began to feel dizzy and as if she would in fact die in there. She removed herself from the room, tripping over the tall door frame. He noticed the effect his creation had on someone unworthy of its advances and he walked her away with care. Meg couldn't help but tremble at the name.

She finally threw the book on the ground and ripped the covers off of her in frustration. Meg made her bed as she mouthed angry words to the air, after she smoothed out her pillows, she hit one in her building frustration. If he saw her right now he’s probably say some comment about her being a brat, but sometimes she wanted to be a brat. Stomping her foot in a blushed frenzy she walked to her vanity and began dressing for class. Meg decided that all of her frustrations will leave her as she when she danced. 

Dancing and singing was something… out of this world for her. The fact that her body could create such beauty anywhere, without any other object to help. She does love to dance on pointe though, so maybe she does want something to help. Pianos are nice to sing with, but not necessary, that was the beauty of it. Meg could play the piano at the most basic level, maybe she'd have him teach her a little. She couldn't help but smile at the thought, she held her brush to her chest with a little mischievous smiles. 

She made her way down to rehearsal with a new confidence she couldn't quite place, she felt as though she was gearing up to flirt a little too much with anything to cross her path. Maybe Erik, maybe not! Meg floated into the big room full of mirrors in a light pink rehearsal gown and the ribbon from the box Erik gave her tied in her hair. Most of the girls noticed her scandalous air when she sauntered in with that smile that looked like she had the world's most saucy secret to tell. Most murmured to each other about her breakdown the night before, they could hear her screaming from the hall. They expected to see her sulk into the room, if they even saw her at all.

“Meg?” Madame Giry asked worriedly to her bustling daughter who had already started stretching. Meg stood up and turned to face her mother.

“Good morning Maman!” Meg kissed her mother's cheek.

“Are you alright?” She searched her daughter's eyes for any sense of a breakdown. 

“Yes! I spent time thinking this morning, and I’m not going to ruin anymore time for myself. I feel much better today, good even! I feel lighter. I owe much to you and Christine. Thank you” She said quietly to her mother. Madame Giry was skeptical, but let her daughter be happy after the night she had before and begun to walk away. “Maman!” Meg grabbed her mother's arm. “Are we starting Coppelia soon?” Meg asked with hopeful eyes, Madame Giry just nodded her head then addressed the class.

“First!” Madame Giry said as she smacked her cane on the ground, all of the dancers snapped into first position. “You all will be glad to learn we will be starting rehearsals for Coppelia soon. Today we will focus on strengthening the essentials of ballet.” Meg started to become ecstatic, a new show, a ballet. A full ballet! And she could do it, and Romeo et Juliette! This is what she loved to do, and having a busy schedule made her happy in a way. 

“Meg! Little Giry!” Little Jammes ran up to Meg after she fluttered right out of the room when rehearsal was done. Brigette came right behind Cecile. Meg turned to them with a bright smile. 

“Yes! Hello Little Jammes! Brigette!” For some reason Meg and Cecile were the only ones given the title of “Little” with either of their names. It was an unspoken, well sometimes spoken, rule that if someone else tried to give a newcomer a title with “Little” in it, it wouldn't catch on. 

“Are you alright? We heard you last night.” They walked next to her with worried eyes.

“I was afraid of that slightly.” Meg kept walking like she had not a care in the world. “I had a bad day, and every suppressed bad day before it seemed to collide. I feel much better! Thank you very much for asking.” Her carefree mood scared them, the two best friends exchanged worried glances. 

“Were glad.” Brigette piped up from her spot next to Meg. “Do you want to have lunch with us?” Meg glowed at the invitation. When Meg left them to relax in her room after their meal, she laid in bed in her under clothes. 

Meg started to read the book she held to her chest just that morning then her thoughts drifted to the throne. It was distracting, She was lying on top of her covers wrapped in the shawl. Meg dropped the book onto the floor, and stared at the ceiling. Grunting in frustration she stood up and put on her pretty over petticoat and that opulent pink dressing gown she kept in her room, and put on the little slippers she walked around the opera in. Wrapping herself in the shawl again, she then picked up the book and slipped into the secret passage by her door. She walked into his home yelling his name, A few steps into the long hall he called out to her through his loud, almost uninterruptible playing.

“Meg? Hello.” He turned on the bench to find her in the dressing gown, and the shawl. She was ravishing, she blushed from the walk to his home, her hair was voluminous and a little wild from lying in bed, the pink fit her skin tone wonderfully, and the air around her seemed to buzz with what seemed to be happiness. This happiness made him want to give her every day of joy so he could to see the open smile every day of his life. That’s what worried him, his presence seemed to make her happy in this moment, but now he knows the grief he can cause her as well. When he left her the night before, her tears of rage and grief carried with him until the moment she stood before him now like a luxurious painting that made the image of her as a goddess even more vivid. 

“Yes?” Meg subconsciously touched her hair as he stared at her with an expression she couldn’t read.

“Nothing.” Meg nodded, and held up the book.

“Would you like me to read?” He nodded to her as she walked to the throne. She only wore her prettiest petticoat over her normal undergarments. The pretty lace fluttered out of pink velvet when she walked and when she settled onto the throne. 

As she read she took in every moment of the way their relationship used to be. Them sitting together in his drawing room, her reading, him playing, drawing, and any other artistic pursuit he fancied. After a few chapters Meg stopped reading and settled into the chair to face him, she held the book open to her chest and waited for him to stop playing. He simply looked up to her, she closed her eyes after they made contact, as he looked to her his music shifted. The dark melody reached into her body that calmed her completely. 

“You know how you help me with music sometimes?” 

“Yes?” Meg stood up, smoothed out the gown, and walked to him. She took a seat next to him.

“I had a thought earlier that I think would probably cause you so much anger if you actually went through with it.”

“And may I ask what this thought was?” 

“I was thinking about why I loved dancing and singing so much, because you don't really need anything else to do them. Just a love for what you do. Well I mean pointe shoes help me with dancing, and you know, pianos are a singer's best friend.” She was rambling, but now he didn’t mind. “ Well after a string of thoughts I had the image of you teaching me how to play, let’s just say the idea amused me so.” She was being the playful thing she was nights ago when she walked in on him cooking with flour all over his fine clothes. Erik grabbed her hands brought them close to his eyes and dramatically inspected them making her laugh. He deemed them fit enough and she spoke of how accomplished she was. In reality, she could sight read a very simple piece, very slowly


	19. Chapter 19 - August 18, 1880

Le Vicomte de Chagny, her sweet Raoul, knelt before Christine who sat on the window seat in Mamas room. The older woman watched through sickly eyes as Raoul pleaded with Christine. He had a way with convincing Christine now, but Christine still was a stubborn creature when it came to men. Even she was a little diva at times with her dear father. The only man she hardly ever caught an attitude with was Monsieur Valerius her adoptive grandfather, he was to sweet on her, he did whatever he could to solve whatever little fit Little Lotte was having. 

“Christine! We must leave, before that man takes you away forever!” He turned to Mama. “Don’t you agree Mama?” Mama made to answer.

“Do not answer that, Mama!” Her sharp eyes looked at her kneeling love. “We shall do no such thing. He has been quiet, and I do not wish to leave my family. I will run away with you someday, but not because some ghost forced me.” She shoved Raoul away and wafted her way to Mama’s bedside and tipped the glass of water into her aging mouth. Christine fussed and petted over Mama until Christine was satisfied that her adoptive mother was comfortable. Raoul stood and watched Christine's worried eyes, and finally made his way to the other side of the bed to look the pretty brunette in the eyes.

“Christine, first you say ‘I will never marry.’ then you tell me you will run away with me ‘Someday’ Christine. Christine!”

“Monsieur Le Vicomte speak. Or I will have you removed from this house.” Her eyes showed that one wrong move and she’d never show her affections for him again. Raoul straightened his pose and his face grew stern, This made Christine's proud stare falter some.

“Christine I love you. I will take you anywhere you wish to go, I will wait for you forever, but I will not watch as you are ripped from me again. I will fight alongside you, for you. Say the word, but please do not stop me from doing so. I will go if you want me to go, not because some ghost forced me.” At that moment the man, usually mistaken for a young eighteen year old fellow, looked like the proper bellowing man. Without another word he nodded a goodbye to Mama Valerius and looked once more into Christine's wet eyes, and then fled from the rich home, he stormed past the carriage that bore his crest awaiting his return.

The blazing Vicomte cared little about the people he brushed shoulders with on his way to the Opera Populaire. It was quite obvious the blond head of hair in the expensive suit was angry. At what, no one but Christine and Mama could tell. When Meg exited the little book shop she used to visit frequently, she saw him walking on the other side of the street, not very far away. 

“Monsieur Le Vicomte!” Meg waved her hand as she yelled, she had to yell once more as she made her way toward him. Raoul heard the little familiar bell voice that belonged to Christine's little blonde friend, then the sound of her little heels clicking on the sidewalk behind him. Over the last few months he came to really enjoy Meg’s company when he visited Christine in their shared dressing room. Her bouncing curls like a halo from the glowing August sun. He finally turned around just as she caught up to him.

“Monsieur Le Vicomte, Raoul! Hello.” The first thing she noticed was the negative air around him. His face was clearly agitated, it certainly explained how much she had to yell to get his attention.

“Hello, Meg.” She felt a little awkward trying to speak to him in such a state. 

“Sorry Monsieur, Are you alright? I could leave you?” Raouls demeanor shifted from his brooding to a defeated, but still too proud stance.

“No mademoiselle, I’m fine. I was just visiting with Christine.” Meg's face spread into a knowing smile.

“Ah! You met our dear stubborn girl today didn't you?!” Meg knew that side of Christine quite well, if the dear girl made her mind that was it. You either had to deal, or fight even harder to attempt to compromise with her. “I’ve worn that face of frustration before. I’ve seen it the most, it’s rare, but I’ve seen it. It’s best to appease her for now.” He offered his arm to her and they continued to make their way to the opera. 

“I have an inclination as to what the quarrel was about.” She paused to watch his face, it hardened at the slight mention of him. “I think one thing… you might be able to shake her on this. Just… give her time. Keep her safe, show her love, be there for her. One day she will leave this and him behind, but not yet. As long Mama is here she's not going anywhere. So let this run it’s course.” Her speech startled him some.

“I hate to speak of Christine in this way but, it’s necessary if you want to marry her someday.” He nodded and thanked her. They kept their silence as he returned her to the front doors of the opera

“Thank you Meg, now if you'll excuse me, I must meet with the managers.” She said her polite goodbye, and watched as he walked to the office to the side of the grand stairs, she began to climb them as he swiftly opened the doors to the office.

Meg walked up the grand staircase to Lodge five, that morning in the book shop she decided to write a note just like the one she wrote to him in early July. Settling the note onto the second tier seat, Meg felt a sense wickedness she used to feel as a little chorus girl. She was standing in the famous Phantom of the Opera’s very protected box, and she was still alive! A very accomplished feat for a ballet rat. Just a few years ago Little Jammes would run into La Sorelli’s dressing room, hang on the fine ladies skirt, and then cry to the tall woman about how scared she was for Little Meg to even look at the lodge door. 

Meg decided to leave for her shared dressing room. Upon entering the dimly gas-lit room she began to brighten the lights and settle into the fainting couch in the center of the room. Earlier that morning, before she left, Meg threw the rehearsal bag into the dressing room with the shawl after class. As she went to grab the green fabric, she noticed the note wrapped in the smooth cloth. It was the signature style, black edged, and stamped with a red wax seal. This sight frightened anyone who saw it, even her mother who had seen hundreds, except for her. Something only the two of them knew was the fact that the red seal wasn’t stamped with a gruesome skull, but a lovely E, just for her.

Times like these she felt like a courting belle receiving love letters from a beau. Biting her lip she scooped up the shawl, held it and the letter to her chest jumping up and down in a little shuffle, she picked up the little dagger shaped letter opener on her dressing table and then floated to the fainting couch again. Meg ran her fingers around the edges of the letter, completely unaware of what is inside the cream envelope. She carefully opened the letter, thankfully she could easily pick up the wax seal so she didn’t have to cut the paper. 

“Break a leg tonight, Marguerite. I hope to see you after the show.” He didn’t write her notes telling her he hoped to see her, this was new, but lovely. She reread the red looping letters and stopped at her name. Marguerite, he was the only one to call her that. Even her mother didn’t extend further than Meg much at all. It was Little Giry, Little Meg, or just Meg to everyone. It was nice to hear him say Marguerite, she knew his love for Faust. Those three syllables were music from his lips, a pure art from his handwritten lines. Meg slipped the note into the book in her lap and her dreamy expression fit the images in her head.


	20. Chapter 20

Christine held her wretched mood well into her arrival at the opera. She slammed the door of the dressing room on the little entourage of dressers that followed her from the stage door. At this sound Meg was startled from her accidental nap, she had fallen asleep quite hard. The sight of her reaction must have been comical. Christine looked like a pouting child as she sat at her dressing table and struggled with the hat pin settled in her the hair piled on her head. She was so frustrated that the simple task was too demanding. Meg came out of her fog to find Christine's cheeks red, and her face sharp. She stood up and walked to stand at the place behind her, and put her hands over Christine's struggling ones.

“Let me do it.” Christine slumped as her hands fell to her lap.

“Hello Meg, sorry I woke you.” Her tone fit her look perfectly. Taken aback slightly, Meg dug the pin out of the brown bush of hair. 

“Darling I know little of what happened with Le Vicomte, but please, do remember I stand behind every decision you make.” Christine’s eyes snapped up to meet Meg’s in the mirror.

“What makes you think something happened with Raoul.” Christine's tone and response made Meg draw her hands back from Christine’s hair.

“Well…” She stumbled to find words, Christine startled her. “I, um, I saw Raoul outside of the opera this morning. When I caught up to him, he seemed very frustrated like you are now. When I asked if he was alright he said he had just come from Mama’s house. I assumed you quarreled about leaving. I know he’s been trying to to convince you.” Meg was brushing through the tips of Christine's hair with her fingers. “I know it’s not my place but I told him to wait. Give you time. I know you love him, it’s too obvious. You are not ready, but when you are I will hug you for too long and send into his loving arms.” Everyone in the opera house seemed to live for dramatics for Christine spun on her vanity stool and hugged Meg around the waist.

“I’m sorry dear, but I was so angry at him. He tried to push me. He’s been doing that too much. First he begged me to marry him, and I told him ‘I will never marry!’ and he nagged me until I’ve changed my mind. Now that I have done that, and agreed, he won’t leave me alone about my teacher and he wants to take me away.” Christine was unaware of the information she just gave Meg, of course Meg did knew, but Christine didn’t know that. Meg unwrapped the younger woman's hand and knelt at her feet. Her smile was warm to the sad, and equally frustrated Christine. 

“Christine. It’s about time you told me you're engaged, I was starting to grow a little angry.” Christine’s face blinked in shock.

“What? I’m not-” She sighed, tears in her eyes. “How did you know?” Meg smiled like a little ballet rat again. 

“I’m your sister. It has been kind of obvious.” That wasn’t completely a lie, it was obvious, she just left out that she heard them on the roof that night. “Also, would it be that bad if you left, I man that is tormenting the opera, and most importantly you. I hate to see you in pain.”

“No!” Christine shook her head fast. “ No! It’s not that bad. I would miss you, and Mama, Madame Giry, and I like the status I have right now at the opera. He hasn’t come to me in months, He is not in my life right now.”

“Alright Christine,Whatever you choose I am right beside you.” Christine nodded slowly. “Okay?” Christine nodded harder this time. “Good! Now, How’s Mama?” Christine sighed again as she broke it to Meg that Mama was in a very bad place with her health. Thankfully Meg did eventually find a way to lighten the conversation. Romeo and Juliette was performed later that night, with a frustrated but still very loving Vicomte in the box opposite Lodge five.


	21. Chapter 21 - September 1, 1880

After a few weeks, Romeo and Juliette continued to be performed with rave reviews! Meg and Christine were so well received by the public, much to La Carlotta's dismay. During a rehearsal to fine tune some sloppy places in the show. Meg came out to the stage as she saw Christine staring out to the theater as the diva stormed into the opera just as a new show was being speculated for rehearsals. The bustling red head charged down the center aisle of the theater to the bumbling managers showing off the grand building to a new patron and another man, a potential patron. Piangi and another few other women made an entourage for the redheaded Bella-diva.

“Oh so I see you have had no trouble attempting to fill my shoes!” the woman said in a saucy manner to the sweating face of Monsieur Firmin. Both managers made to stutter a reply to the angry Donna. “NO! Do not speak another word, I am back.” She whipped her head to look at Christine, the younger girl stumbled back a tad under the strict gaze of the elder. “And here to stay.”

Meg made to run down the temporary steps on the middle of the stage and fight the smug woman. La Carlotta stood straighter at the little blonde. Christine got to Meg before she could make it halfway down the steps. Piangi held Carlotta so she wouldn’t start charging to the little chit, why should she, make her come to the bella diva. Madame Giry Yelled her daughter's name from the side of the auditorium in a scolding tone that used to terrify Meg. But now, as her own woman, she frankly didn’t care. Primadonna be damned.

The opera ghost silently laughed in his box at the still women staring at each other with fire in their eyes. The blonde blushed with anger much brighter than the red head. Everyone stood still as Meg didn’t calm herself, the only reason she stopped is because of her friend holding her by the arm. Carlotta stood waiting for Meg to come to her. The older woman was sure she was taller, and she knew she used to scare the little ballet rat in her youth so the diva was unafraid of the little dancer in trousers. No one spoke until finally Monsieur Andre called out into the tension of the room. His words cut through like a blunt knife.

“La Carlotta!” He laughed nervously as he made to grab her arm, Piangi blocked the way before he could do so. “Pardon me Madame, care to follow me into our..” He looked at Firmin quickly, “ Office, we will speak about the new show.” Piangi put his arms around his wife in a very protective manner and followed Andre to their office. Monsieur Firmin stayed to apologize and smooth over the mess made in front of the patrons, he arranged for the men to return and “View the opera.” Christine still held onto Meg who hadn’t moved. Meg flicked her eyes up to lodge five, and looked for shadow she knew so well. Meg knew just where to look for him. Seeing the shadow of his form in the box calmed her in a way. She settled down and pulled her arm from Christine’s nervous hand, her manner a little uncouth to her good friend.

“Sorry.” Meg said with little feeling, and what little she felt was anger. She turned to walk back to the wings. Christine was watched with sad eyes as her friend walked away. People made way for Meg, and she settled back down on the floor, back to the place she was before the odious woman barged into the auditorium. Monsieur Reyes awkwardly attempted to resume rehearsal. 

“U-UM.. PLACES!!” Christine sadly returned to her spot in the scene sad about her friends reaction just before and sad knowing she’d soon be knocked off her new pedestal. Christine took another look her friend staring straight ahead, right past every person into the opposite wings, the look on her face was pointed and angry, but something was… off. She seemed different. Madame Giry came up right behind Meg to scold her for her temper, not that Meg would care. Before Madame Giry could start her rant Meg got up and sauntered to the stairs to the side of the stage and asked if she was free to go.

When monsieur Reyes nodded to her, he did it out of fright of the sight he now saw of the blonde who was now notorious for having meltdowns and now a temper to match. She walked straight out of the side entrance of the theater by the stage and mindlessly made her way to her dressing room to change to her own clothes, then made her way to Erik’s home. 

She walked down the dim hallway, and much to her dismay, found the drawing room empty. Meg called out to him, she assumed he’d make his way to his home when she left. She huffed and made her way to sit on the throne, Meg waited for him to return and thought about every possible word she could come up with to describe the “Great La Carlotta!” He slowly walked into his home to find almost exactly what he had expected to find. In her anger, sadly for him, she looked incandescent. Her skin ablaze with anger, she was red and lively. 

“La Carlotta!” Meg lurched forward as she incredulously spat her name. Erik held up his hand signaling her to wait, went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine. Meg grew obviously irritated at his actions.

“Continue.” He said as he sat down the glass on the coffee table then sat himself down. She fell back into the throne and spoke again. 

“That insufferable, vile, intolerable, tasteless THING!” Meg stood up as she said the last word to pace as Erik settled into his usual side of the loveseat. 

“That’s the spirit!” He raised his glass to her and took a sip. She turned quickly to him with unamused eyes, one of her eyebrows raised to show her dismay. She secretly wanted him to stand, kiss her and console her. Meg walked to the throne and sat down trying to hide her melancholy spirit with anger for Carlotta.

“She walks in and expects the entire opera to come to her beck and call. What did she expect?! That she’d return without months of a single word and she’d be given the lead, and everything would return to the way it was?” 

“I dare say she did expect just that.” 

“AND! I dare say that it’s going to work! The next show, that unseemly woman will be the next lead.” Meg picked up the glass designated for her and took a large, long sip as she leaned back lazily on the throne, Erik did little to stop the words coming from Meg, he felt very much the same way.

“Tactless rat.” She said under her breath, though with his exceptional hearing he heard her well enough.

“Now, now that is a very mean thing to say about rats.” She narrowed her eyes again.

“Are you making jokes now?” Erik then realized humor was not the way to go with this. Just as he thought this Meg began to cry. Not tears of sadness but of frustration. It was quite common for Meg to do this, she’s done it many times in class, and multiple times speaking with the corps. As much of a family they were, they could fight mighty wars in their large dressing room. Erik was unaware of what to do in this case, she’d only cried in moments where he pretended to be unaware. Now that she was open, he had no idea how to repair the damage.

The tears ended quickly and she sat staring forward with two large streaks of tears down her face. She was as unsettling then as the day Erik met her. The thought of her at those two, now three moments, were strange for him to see. Very few made him feel that way before. Even the most morbid of men he met along the way wouldn’t challenge his wit. 

“Meg… How about you help me make something to eat” She nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand.

“Do you mind if I lie down?” He gave a sweet reply and told her to follow him, he walked her to a room she’d never been before. He opened the door to the Louis-Philippe room, as he called it, and lit one of the gas-lamps in the room to let her lie on the very large bed. The room fitted in blues and silver gilt for his once-future bride, wasn’t much to Meg’s taste, of course Erik knew that but he hadn’t thought about destroying the room. He never really thought about the room anymore. Christine was rarely on his mind unless he was writing the part of Aminta in Don Juan Triumphant. He even felt guilty in a way thinking of her now in Meg’s presence. She laid on top of the fancy duvet and covered herself with the comfortable decorative throws at the bottom.

“Call me when you finish, your meals are lovely, Erik.” She whispered tiredly, with heavy eyes to him. 

“Sure.” He walked away and left her to rest, thankfully she did so silently.


	22. Chapter 22 - September 2, 1880

When Meg entered the room for morning class, her mother told her there was to be a meeting about the new opera after Madame Giry’s class. Meg simply rolled her eyes when she was out of her mother's sight at the fact that at that meeting they’d announce the redhead as the lead, and with make Christine a part of the chorus, or make her return to the corps de ballet. She was fairly certain that she would be void of any credible character, but was determined to attend to be a support for the currently-fragile Christine. Christine is a very strong woman, but after everything that’s happened to her in and out of the opera, she’s bound for a breakdown to match, and probably beat Meg's recent ordeal.

Its is already speculated that Christine is not exactly mentally stable. Many don’t believe her “Angel of Music” ever existed. The crude members of the stagehand team would make jokes about the flighty girl who spent so much time missing, taking lessons from “A great teacher” As Meg called him just a few months ago. To the members of the opera this teacher didn’t exist, but was a figment of the pretty brunettes imagination, no one made a attempt to connect the opera ghost to her “angel.” Many also felt this way because the “poor dear” spent so much time with Le Vicomte.

Did the “Dear girl” really believe the rich noble actually marry an actress who was once a ballet rat, what a fairy tale that would be. But life isn’t a fairy tale, many dancers would tell you that. Every member of the opera would be lying if they told you they didn’t want to win over a rich noble and marry into a family that hates them for ruining their reputation.

Making their way to the stage for the announcement, Meg walked just a few steps before her mother, who still wanted to scold her for her behavior the day before. Meg walked out of the wings to Christine staring out into the auditorium, waiting patiently for her friend to arrive. Happily avoiding the gaze of a bustling diva, La Carlotta just a couple of seats away with Piangi in between. Red from class and her rush to get to the stage, Meg sat on the floor right by Christine's chair, for there was no chair. They said short worried hellos and sat quietly, hand-in-hand, until Monsieur Reyes entered the same way he did just weeks ago with another page holding a large stack of scores.   
“Così fan tutte!” As always, the members of the opera murmured with their excitement, but Meg and Christine still gripped onto each other's hands. The scores were given to the members of the show and when Meg and Christine received their specified scores. Christine refused to read the name of her character. Meg read hers just as a belting screech came from the toad. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Christine turned to Meg who was staring wide eyed at her score. The one in the chair looked at the fear in Meg’s eyes, then looked at her score. Christine knew from the opera doing this show a few years ago, that her character was one of the sisters. While Meg stared with fear at the diva, because she noticed too, that from the opera doing the show years before, that she too was cast as one of the sisters. The said diva was raging in Italian, both Meg and Christine knew some Italian from living in the opera, but the diva spoke too fast for anyone but Piangi to understand. 

Most of Meg’s fear came from how excited she was to be cast in such a nice role. Carlotta’s fit would most likely result in the role being taken away from her. Meg looked at Christine with the same eyes, and opened her mouth in a surprised smile. They held onto each other's hand again and celebrated to themselves. Carlotta now yelled obscenities at the noble stare of Monsieur Reyes. He was sure of his decision, Carlotta would not play either of the sisters, but she would play Despina, the maid. Piangi began to say encouraging, calming words to La Carlotta. Who has not yet come to the understanding that she will be replaced like the great La Sorelli has. 

Monsieur Reyes made a point to stay true to his decision. La Carlotta left of her own accord. She was not fired, and she could only return at the mercy of the Opera Populaire. She banked too much on the fact that the new managers adored her, and thought her too great to just abandon. Though Monsieur Reyes would greatly advise the abandonment of the odious woman. Why not award the two younger singers Christine Daae and Marguerite Giry, who he taught all he could teach them himself. The two sweetest and most loyal performers and girls the Opera Populaire ever knew.

“Madame the decision is final. Take it or leave it.” Reyes said with new found confidence. The decision was final unless one were to drop out of the show, and Monsieur Reyes was fairly certain that would not be the case, unless the dear Opera Ghost deemed their removal fit. But that dear fellow was silent after these two months, now on to the third month of silence from the ghost everyone was still afraid was lurking about. Patrons were sure of this presence because he still made noise in lodge five, kept empty for his use.

Meg left the stage to lunch with Christine and her dear Raoul, but all the while she only had visions of of being with the man in the fifth cellar. She departed from Raoul and Christine to run an errand. It was less than a month to Erik’s birthday, or at least, the date he told her was his birthday. Meg had no idea of his age, but she didn't care. He was Erik, old or not, she loved him. 

September thirty-first, just a few weeks away. She wasn’t one for picking out gifts for people, it was a hard task for her for some reason. But for him she did have a thought. She knew he left the opera to make errands, and he wore a cloak around the opera house as he lurked. Meg decided to play off of the lovely shawl he gifted her, and with her new funds from playing leads, Meg made her way to order a cloak, hopefully lined in a dark green silk.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle, how may I help you?” She heard this voice a good minute after she entered the shop. The only woman working in the front assisted another, until making her way to Meg who was looking over the sample cloaks and fabric swatches in the corner of the little shop. 

“Bonjour, yes I would like to order a cloak.” The lady nodded and made for one of her forms. “Can it be done by the thirty-first?” 

“Oh well before that!” Meg nodded and grew excited. She smiled to herself, exactly like a little girl in love. The woman came back to lead Meg to the wall that measured the height of the buyer. “We will start with the length, stand there.”

“Oh! It’s not for me.” Meg paused before continuing. “It’s for a… friend. He gave me shawl for my birthday, and I think this be a good... complimentary gift.” The woman paused for a moment before giving Meg a knowing smile. Ah young lovers. 

“Do you know his height then dear?” Meg slumped in thought for a moment, then perked up at a thought. 

“Not exactly! But the top of my head comes just to the bottom of his shoulders. She pointed to the spot she spoke of. “I suspect his full height is… here!” her hand went right to the suspected spot of the wall. Meg was quite short compared to almost everyone she met who was her age or older. Madame Giry, La Sorelli, Christine, Le Vicomte, Little Jammes were taller than Meg. Brigette was the only one to be around the same height. It was hard to tell sometimes which of the two were taller, though it was usually Brigette. Erik, of course, was like a tower compared to her. 

“Oh dear he’s quite tall!” Meg nodded and whispered a yes with a fine smile on her face. She was picturing him in the cloak he usually wears. 

“Also, he does a lot of walking so, he doesn't like cloaks that reach the floor so about… here would be good. “ She pointed to the height on the wall, The cloak he would wear hit her calf and she could remember the spot exactly. The woman nodded and led Meg to the swatches, immediately Meg's eyes fell to a perfect deep green silk, used for linings. She pointed it out for the lining and picked a beautiful black velvet for the outer appearance. Any other color would be too noticeable for the man known for being so well hidden. 

“Sheet music?” She noticed the large size of the paper. Meg smile widely and proudly to her. 

“Yes! It’s a new score, I work at the opera Populaire, It’s my first leading role where I don’t have to wear trousers.”Meg laughed with the woman who looked at Meg amazed. She saw many actresses and actors because of her close proximity to the Opera. Thankfully she wasn’t one to look down upon 

“My husband and I saved to see a show, We finally attend one just a few weeks ago!”

“Romeo Et Juliette? Did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh yes it was wonderful! Christine Daae was as wonderful as people say.” 

“Yes she is wonderful, of course I am a little biased we’re like sisters, have been since she came to study as a dancer. I’m usually a dancer as well, but I’ve started working in more operas. I played Stephano in Romeo et Juliette. They continued to chat until Meg finally left.

Meg soon made her way home to the opera with a receipt and pick up date tucked in her score. She of course made her way to his home after returning to the opera, score in hand. With a brilliant smile Meg announced to Erik she would in fact play Dorabella in Mozart’s great Cosi Fan Tutte. While Christine plays the other sister, and Carlotta has to accept the lower title of the maid. Though Carlotta might enjoy the role quite well because the maid is notoriously pushy and conniving towards the bratty sisters.


	23. Chapter 23 - September 3, 1880

After a few days, rehearsals for Cosi Fan Tutte were well underway. Cosi rehearsal in the morning, Romeo et Juliette still performed at night, and rehearsals for Coppelia as the doll and a soloist in the wedding scene any time she could, usually before Cosi rehearsals. She was a very busy girl, and yet still kept time for Erik, many times falling asleep in his lair. Then awoke to find herself in her bed, he ended up carrying her to and from his home often. Yes not in the way she would like, but the thought is nice nonetheless. 

Now she stretches alone in the second cellar room, she moved to work silently on her pointe work before moving onto the one variation she gets to play. Meg was happy, she got to dance and sing with her best friend. The doll didn’t do anything leg wise, so her role was already prepared. The variation, usually easier, was given more difficult steps in some places at her request. 

She grasped choreography quickly, and used the extra practice time to make her role even more transcendent with emotion. From down the hall, the quiet air was broken by the pounding of Meg’s shoes. The style slightly harder than the soft pointe shoes of the past. Meg requested harder shoes from the makers, she goes through hers so fast without the harder layers. 

Coppelia was set to open the next day, and Meg couldn’t wait. She did favor dancing over singing most of the time. The only time she didn’t is when she was on stage singing, or with Erik. She loved to sing with his playing. She did dance with his playing often as well, but she was force to be behind him for room to dance. So his eyes didn’t see her steps, but he could see her form singing next to him. As Meg grew tired she finished running her variation for the last time, Madame Giry entered the room as Meg settled into her final pose, obviously fatigued.

“Hello, Maman.” Meg said tiredly as she kissed her mother's cheek. A usual greeting for them. Madame Giry grew wary of her daughters appearance, and worried for her daughter's health. She worked harder, and longer than any other performer of the opera. “I will rest at my spot until barre.” 

“Alright my dear, take it easy today. It is alright if you do less.” Later as people flooded into the room and stretched for class, Meg sat and watched her peers. Impressed at their grace, and critiquing when necessary. Meg was sure that one day, when she was too old to dance, she would in fact take over her mother's role. Of course she wouldn’t be the dark, widowing figure her mother is, but instead a vibrant mother to all girls living in the dorms. Hopefully in the far off future. 

She shifts her gaze up to look at La Sorelli next to her, beautifully elegant as always. Madame Giry smacked her cane indicating the start of class. Meg stood and tiredly went through the steps. Usually her mind went blank through calming almost daily routine. Today she went through what music she knows from Cosi Fan Tutte. After barre, it is scheduled for the ballet to do a full dress rehearsal for Coppelia, the debut would be the next day.

When she was put into her beautiful costume for the doll she strutted to the stage, something about a tutu turned her into the epitome of a saucy ballet rat. The ballet in three acts shows the doll very rarely. So in the breaks Meg would run her music for Cosi Fan Tutte in her dressing room until a page would come bring her back for her short scenes. Finishing her variation at the end and she was done with the hardest part. When it came to the bows she would stand next to La Sorelli. 

Just as the ballet troupe was done, the troupe for the well underway Cosi Fan Tutte came into to rehearse on stage. Meg made her way to the small private rehearsal space Christine and Meg began Romeo and Juliette in. She arrived to find Christine and La Carlotta sitting in the room silently waiting for both Meg and Monsieur Reyes to arrive. Meg arrived first to the room, the air was thick enough to cut. She kissed Christine's cheek, and sat down on the chair in between the two divas. Meg nodded a hello to Carlotta in an attempt to be nice. Tensions were high for each of them. Meg did not wish to be at odds with Carlotta, but the redhead made it far too easy! 

Meg already adored Dorabella, she was flirtatious, and the first of the sisters to give in to the “Albanians” charms. Monsieur Reyes enter with enough zeal to make each scared, tired, and annoyed lady become excited for their roles. Christine and Meg were perfect for the sisters, for they were basically sisters themselves. They hung on each other, gave kisses and hugs, and adore each other and their lovers just the same. Though Meg and Christine wouldn’t be broken down by any charming passerby. Their hearts were owned forever, much to rich patrons dismay. At the end of rehearsals, Meg lamented dramatically to Christine, and threw her arm over her eyes. Dramatics, dramatics!

“Leave me here, I’m far too tired to move from this chair!” Christine sometimes caught a playful mood, when she did, Christine and Meg would laugh for hours. This tired Meg didn't expect for this Christine to start to drag the chair to the door. Meg yelped in surprise and held onto the edge of the chair. Christine stopped after a few feet and Meg popped up from the chair and faced her friend with wide eyes.

“What was that!?” Christine simply turned and took a few leisurely steps toward the door then took off running to their dressing room. Meg simply huffed and turned her head to Carlotta and a newly arrived Piangi. “Children these days.” Then she made for the door, though she didn’t take after Christine in running. When she slowly walked through the door, Meg made to put on her undergarments for Romeo et Juliette.

She put on the marigold dressing gown then collapsed, as she’s done many times, onto the fluffy rug in front of the double doors. After a few hours of Megs silence, Christine woke Meg with sustenance with just enough time before the show. Christine knew Meg would forget to eat on busy days like the one Meg had. She sat up against the fainting couch with Christine and ate together, they chatted until a page was sent to bring them to warm ups.  
“Meg I’m nervous.” 

“For what?” Meg was thoroughly confused.

“Raoul's brother is coming home tomorrow. He’s coming with Raoul and I to see Coppelia tomorrow. I don’t think he’ll like me. Raouls sisters already don't.”

“I am sure he’ll like you, he like La Sorelli alright. Why wouldn’t he like you? Also who needs those sisters when you have me?” Meg pouted. 

“You’re right. But it does still make me nervous.”

“Alright, if you need an escape, come to the dressing room tomorrow.” 

“Will you come to dinner tomorrow? He will be there I am so afraid. Please?”

“Yes, of course.”


	24. Chapter 24 - September 4, 1880

Tonight Meg would become one show closer to the title of Prima ballerina. Though Marine and little Jammes still stood a chance, it was common thought that Meg could take the lead, and soon. After another busy day of rehearsals Meg napped on the fainting couch in her dressing room, this time Christine was absent due to no opera that night. Though she would return for Coppelia's debut that night. In the meantime Meg could rest in silence.

Before Erik opened the door of the mirror he could see her slow breathing form through viewing glass side of the mirror. A clear view of her was given at the silent swinging of the large mirror door. She looked, as ever, like a doll when she slept. Her head tilted toward the double doors as her back laid against the tall sloping side of the couch. He walked to of the other side to the door and made sure it was locked for her sake, then knelt at her side. 

His tall height made his head still taller than hers. He touched the embroidered edge of the shawl she so adored. In his actions, his hand graced some length of her forearm, the contact caused her to shift in her sleep. Almost waking up, she settled back down with little sleep noises. Her unconscious body knew his cold hands, though they sparsely touched her, she memorized them well. 

“Erik?” She whispered in a small voice, her eyes still closed. Meg lifted her chest in a sleepy stretch then settled back down. The three shows she involved herself in were wearing the resilient actress down. In truth it worried him, Christine, and her mother. He grabbed her hand as she quickly fluttered her eyes open a few times. Sleep weighed heavy on her as she spoke to him. “Hello!” Once again an excited but terribly sleepy whisper. Her voice made him laugh, a most pleasing sound in Meg's eyes.

“What brings you to me?”

“To give encouraging words to you of course.” Meg laughed and feigned confusion. 

“To me? Whatever for?” She could be a minx if she felt right. Meg was a flirtatious girl, only to her friends, but they knew that side of her could take over.

“A dancer, will become a doll tonight at your influence. You look like a doll now, so I suspect that your performance will be very convincing.”

“Thank you.” It was after he released her hand that she was once again cruelly reminded that at this moment they were not lovers. In theory, in the eyes of anyone who saw them if they had the chance, yes. In practice, no. 

Meg received no suitors, nor flirted with any patron who dare tried. She would be pleasant, but would always leave the patrons more in love than they originally thought. She left them wanting more. While she grieved for her own heart. Erik did adore Meg, though he was not aware of this fact himself, if he had known. Who knows where they would be now? Erik was even more magnetic to her now than when they first met. She was sure that wasn’t possible, but of course the universe proved her wrong once again. 

“Tell me about your day?” Erik sat on Meg’s spinning vanity stool, the short piece of furniture made his long legs bend oddly. She smiled at his obvious discomfort, he met her eyes then quickly stretched one of his legs out. Meg changed from lying on her back to halfway on her stomach. Her arms rested crossed under her head on top of the tall slope of the fainting couch. Her face wasn’t turned to him, the ribbon tying the top section of her hairs up, her signature, started to run down her soft hair. She pulled it out, still in the loop, then propped her arm up on the tall slope and untied the ribbon. Today's choice was the pink ribbon tied to her present from him, it matched her pink rehearsal dress the best. 

She laid her head back down when she was finished, the ribbon twisted around her hands. Her eyes and body still heavy from sleep. She opened her eyes slowly to him, a look of love shone brightly, though he didn’t know it. The look did however render him useless for he stopped mid-sentence. She had to admit, she was shocked at his reaction. Meg loved it very much. Once again she feigned confusion.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?” She said in a confused and exaggerated voice, especially conjuring an even more playful tone for the last word. He was clearly flustered but she payed no mind. She then wondered if the covered, twisted side of his face blushed the same as the smooth, uncovered one. Why wouldn’t it? The covered side was much more washed out and dark gray with streaks of red unlike his other side. The thought made her smile wickedly. He choose to use his powers of fright for some delight of his own,

“Nothing. Dear.” He said the first quickly and shortly, right on the cusp of that voice that made Meg shiver. Then the second in that low, terrifying voice from her nightmares. He watched her sleepy eyes widen and look past his head to the right. She stared at nothing, her vision blurred, and her body began to not feel like her own. Erik was not aware of the damage that wicked tone caused her. Regaining composure quickly Meg began to laugh, a nervous move. Meg stood behind the thought that he wouldn’t hurt her physically, not intentionally. He did hurt her emotionally, again, not intentionally. 

He began to laugh with her, the sound was so comforting to her. Like his sound was the beautiful green shawl wrapping around her, and he was the one to place the fabric around her form. She took what she could get from him. A laugh, a stare, a glance, anything. Meg made it her mission to respond to everything, even chit-like comments, with a certain grace and softness. She wanted his opinion of her to be soft, and full of every warmth someone who adores another could give. If Erik could look up to any woman, figuratively that is, it would be Meg. Dearest Marguerite. 

Time always got away from them when they were together. Hours were nonexistent. Sadly, in reality, they were real. After some time of chatting quietly in her dressing room Erik knew he had to leave her. She must prepare for her show. Dressers and her mother were sure to appear. He solemnly stood to leave when she remembered something and stood up quickly. 

“I can’t see you tonight.” She really did look sad, to him at least, he did find that odd still. “Christine begged me to dine with her and Raoul, to congratulate me. Also, Le Comte de Chagny has returned and Christine is terrified to dine with him. I also suspect La Sorelli to attend as well. I suspect a very dull evening for me, but I’ve been putting off dining with them for months.” Erik understood completely.

“I hope it won’t be too awful. Now...” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You will do wonderfully tonight, don’t forget dear old me in box five. Only there for you.” Now it was his turn to stun her. He didn’t know how that tugged at her heart, she yearned to agree and kiss him until she had to rush to get ready.

“Then I dance for only you tonight.” She smiled warmly to him as he brought her hands up to leave a gentlemanly kiss upon. She smiled wide at his lips and he dropped them gently. He walked past her to make his way to the mirror door. 

“Goodnight, dear.” He said the last word in a humorous, but very similar to the tone that renders her useless and frightened. The sound settled around her differently this time. Frightening, yes, but different. It caused her to lean her chest forward, and raise her head slightly. She seemed to open herself to him. Maybe she was now frightened of what that voice could do to her.

Meg jumped at her newfound excitement, she went behind her changing screen and undressed down to a short than usual chemise for under her costume. Dancing costumes used to be quite long, but over the years skirts have shortened. Now her fluffy skirt came to just at the bottom of her knees. Perfect for a lovely storybook doll, then for her variation she changed into a golden, even shorter costume to show her quick and advanced steps. She loved her ballet costumes, they flowed much better than her opera costumes. They were feminine and fluffy. Just as she likes. 

The Hannibal Slavegirl costumes were quite scandalous for the opera, though many male patrons did enjoy them. Red and green panels made the fitted bodice, while the skirt is made of red and green alternating ropes. While standing the corps looked fully clothes, and while moving, the corps showed quite a bit of leg.

Putting on the marigold dressing gown Meg sat down to do her makeup. For this show she had to do a similar look to her jewelers maid makeup. Pale face, lots of rouge for even more exaggerated than normal apples of the cheeks, and the color of the lips canceled out to draw a heart for the mouth. She was as convincing as a doll as any person on Earth. She would play one of the only non-human characters in the show, so she must set herself apart from La Sorelli’s Swanhilda somehow. 

The show came and went quickly, Meg bowed hand in hand with La Sorelli after dozens of roses were thrown at the great Prima. Something Meg heard as she bowed by herself was a great big cheer from Christine. This time, as Meg settled deep onto the floor to show her gratitude, the unladylike yell came from a box way above her head. She saw her friend, as regal as ever, clapping a yelling while the De Chagny brothers stood next and behind her clapping much more regally. Christine turned to Raoul and said something Meg would never know. Meg kissed her hand and sent the kiss to Christine, then bowed to the other side of the opera and blew a kiss to box exactly opposite of The De Changy box.

Meg walked with Madame Giry on her heels to her shared dressing room and got into her marigold dressing gown to removed the thick makeup she had on. After washing her face she did fanned her fan to bring down the redness. Remnants of the black around her eyes made them fine. Meg finished dressing in a fine evening gown then sat on the fainting couch, and continued to fan herself. Meg was thankful for the break before the following evening. She knew it would be a very long night. After just a few minutes Christine knocked on the door and yelled through the door.

“OH Meg! Are you decent?” Meg smiled and yelled back.

“Yes dear!” Madame Giry opened the door for Christine. The girl ran for Meg who was just beginning to stand and pushed her back down onto the couch in a hug. Then kissed her face as she did every debut Meg was apart off. Both De Chagny brothers and La Sorelli followed and said hello to Madame Giry politely. Meg swatted Christine away lightly.

“Christine!”

“Can you blame me? You were sublime as always.” 

“Stop!” Meg stood up and Christine fake pouted.

“What? can I not give my sister congratulations?” 

“Of course you may.” Meg turned to Raoul who gave her a kiss on the cheek and a hug, he then introduced her to Philippe De Chagny. He kissed her hand, and Meg was of course taken with him. He was older and definitely looked wiser than the younger Vicomte. Meg was very happy to see La Sorelli at his side. She then hugged the star. “Sorelli I know I told you, but you were wonderful tonight, beautiful as always.” Meg so greatly admired La Sorelli.

“Are you ready to go?” Christine said while hanging on Raouls arm. 

“Of course.” They left but before they did so Christine begged Madame Giry to go. She, of course, refused. Madame Giry would feel out of place in the little crowd. Sadly that leaves Meg as a... fifth wheel of sorts. But Meg charged forward, ladylike and proud, charming and lovely. At dinner Philippe and Christine were fawning over La Sorelli, this made Meg decide to tell La Sorelli something she had longed to say in quite some time.

“La Sorelli is the finest dancer I’ve ever seen.” Meg smiled at a memory. “  
I remember when I was young, just about to turn ten. At the end of the Franco-Prussian War, the Opera Populaire opened it’s doors once again to a new Prima Ballerina. La Sorelli came in like a sawn, the most graceful thing I had ever seen. Just as beautiful as you see her now, tall, with lovely dark hair. When I was a a little ballet girl, my friends and I would cling to her skirts terribly, terribly frightened. She used to swish a dagger around to keep us safe from the Opera Ghost.” 

“Opera Ghost?” Count Philippe said quickly and curiously. Meg didn't really realize she said that. Now everyone at the table except Philippe were afraid of what to say next.

“Do you not know?” Christine said in an attempt to please him. “Do tell him the story, like you used to tell when we were little.” Christine said quickly. Meg shifted her eyes around the private candlelit room then started. She decided to be wicked one more time.

“The Phantom of the Opera.” she flicked her eyes to Philippe's to see his full attention. “Like yellow parchment is his skin…” She looked at Christine. “A great black hole, serves as the nose which... Never grew.” She then looked to Sorelli. “You must be always on your guard, or he will catch you...” She then flicked her eyes to Raouls boyish ones. “With his magical las-so!” She paused then continued. 

“He haunts the opera to this day, scaring the ballet rats, dropping sandbags, messing with La Carlotta, anything he sees fit.” She stopped to gauge the counts reaction. “Box five is to be kept empty… for his use.” Meg echoed the words of her mother on the very day Christine became a star.

Christine was sent to that day in her mind at Meg's repeated words. Meg grabbed her hand from under the table to let her know she understood. Philippe however was thoroughly entertained. Meg liked his handsome smile, she did so love to entertain. It’s what she lived for. Christine Walked Meg into the foyer of the opera while the rest of the party waited outside to take Christine and La Sorelli to their respective homes. Before Christine walked away Meg called out to her.

“Wait!” Christine turned back. “Could you unbutton my dress? No ones up and there are so many.” 

“Of course.” Christine complemented Meg once again as she worked the buttons. When she was finished they hugged once more and Christine disappeared out of the opera. Meg wrapped the green shawl around her back and walked to her dressing room late that night, the opera was dark and quiet. She retrieved her bag and fresh pink rehearsal dress, the dresses washed it for her, then she made her way to her room. 

Meg was exhausted. She breathed a heavy sigh when she stepped out of her heavy dress. Meg hung the dress in her wardrobe, and undid her petticoats and carefully put her things away. Untying her corset so she was down to her chemise, then washed her face once more then settled on her vanity stool and finished her careful routine for her complexion. 

She stood to lye in her bed, stopping in her tracks when she saw a rose and a black edged note on her pillow. The rose had a pretty lavender ribbon big enough for her to use in her hair tied to it. She picked up the note and smiled warmly at the paper. Meg broke the wax seal carefully and read his kind words. Congratulations on a job well done, then an invitation to dine the next night, well that night, at the hour she read the note.


	25. Chapter 25 - September 15, 1880

Some days after Coppelia debuted the opera began it’s two show performance days. Meg now performed Coppelia, then an hour later Romeo et Juliette was to be played. Thankfully Romeo et Juliette is to close soon, but Cosi Fan Tutte is set to open just days after Romeo et Juliette closes. Today was the day Meg had to do both. She had class, rehearsals, and two shows. Meg made a sign of the cross, she wasn't a religious girl but she felt like the motion itself would give her strength. 

Meg had told Erik to meet her in his home later. She was tired but she need some relaxation, she had that with him. She ran from her spot at bows to her dressing room and cleaned off her makeup quickly. Changing to her Stephano underclothes she rested on the couch in her dressing gown until her and Christine were called to warm up. She felt good until right before curtain. In their dressing room, a dresser came in with a paper. A paper containing a review of Coppelia's debut. 

“Go on, read it!” Meg was excited to hear what people thought. “She fixed her face and untied her hair from Coppelia. As the girl read, she said wonderful things. 

“The Opera Populaire debuted yet another an outstanding production of Coppelia on the evening of September 11, 1880. La Sorelli enchanting as always, the corps beautiful and energetic. The story of Coppelia is compelling to the public because of the, out of the ordinary for ballet, human characters. The wonderful way Swanhilda and Franz were cast and played made up for the-” The girl stopped and Meg's eyes snapped to the meet the girls scared eyes in the mirror. 

“Why did you stop?” Everyone in the room stared with wonder or fright. Madame Giry took the paper and continued reading.

 

“The wonderful way Swanhilda and Franz were cast and played made up for the-” she stopped as well.

“Maman?” Meg said in desperation.

“Dreadful doll.” She looked at her daughter with so much sympathy for the blondes sorrows. Meg stared forward with shocked and sad eyes.

“Please go on.” Meg never received a review in the papers for her ballets. Everything came from her mother, La Sorelli, and her peers. Not some stranger she never knew.

“The performance of the doctors great creation, done by Marguerite Giry, made the doll made so human like, look like real wood. That is clearly not the objective of Coppelia, the doll is supposed to be human-like. You thought she was a doll, then it was confirmed in her jerking movements. I have seen many good roles of hers, The performance was out of character and disappointing for the story. Her solo was wonderful, truly a shame the rest of her performance didn’t shine the same.” Madame Giry finished as Christine was called to the stage. Meg stood to walk with Christine to the wings. Madame Giry grabbed her arm.

“Meg? Are you alright.” Meg was tired and she had enough.

“Maman! I am fine. One bad review isn't going to make me jump off the roof! Let’s do this. I’m tired and I want to sing.” 

“Alright.”

“And leave that newspaper on my dressing table.” Meg was angry, of course she was angry, and tired, and all she wanted to do is hear his voice. She put all of her emotions into Stephano, her performance was undeniably fantastic. A fire burned in her, soon to be snuffed out. After the show Madame Giry didn’t want to leave Meg, Christine already left and Meg waited for her mother to leave before making her way down to his parlor. 

“Mother please! I am fine! All I want is to be alone. Goodnight Maman.” She kissed her mother's cheek and sat with her head on her arms on her dressing table. He mother placed a hand on her shoulder and left the room with a quiet goodnight. When she was finally left alone she looked at herself in the mirror, Tears right on the edge. She read the review a few times and her tired mind began to fear that this is what her peers thought of her too.

Finally she barreled through the mirror with her bag and the paper. Somehow no tears feel just yet. He waited for her just like she asked the night before When she opened the door and walked down the long hallway, she stopped when he stood up next to the love-seat facing her. They were many feet apart and they stood staring at each other. Visible tears burned his heart and blurred her vision. Her chest heaved and her breathing was hard and jerking. 

“What’s the matter?” His voice melted her sorrow only slightly but it was a sweet bliss. Her head raised in with her breathing, she couldn't see him through her tears. He still hadn't moved. She stepped toward him.

“They hate me.” 

“Who.” stream of tears came quickly down her cheek.

“Everyone.” She breathed the word out like it was the key to all the sorrow of the universe. She dropped her bag and took another step, then stuck the paper out for him. He didn’t get to read it as she finally released her sorrow. Her face was facing the ceiling and her eyes were closed but continuously streaming. Her chest heaved and arms were by her side. She was so open to him at this moment, she tried to step forward once more but she tripped on the edge of the large Persian rug. 

She fell with her eyes still closed, she didn’t care what happened. He caught her on her way down. Her hands now gripped his lapels as she looked to the right side past his body. She couldn’t calm herself. She could die then in his arms and she wouldn’t care. He had one hand wrapped in her hair at the base of her neck and the other around her waist.

“This damned writer said my doll was too doll-like, Marine in the corps wants Prima ballerina and she thinks she can get it if it weren't for me. The rest well I don’t know but they will when they find out. They’ve got to, Christine says she loves me but when she learns, she learns of my betrayal. I haven’t told her, that’s what’s going to kill her, that I haven’t told her. Maman, will despise me when she learns of how I lie to her. Her and Christine. So many, ‘I am going to bed now.’s. So many ‘I am too tired to dine.’s. Too many, too many lies. AND you!.” She sobbed and laid her head on his heart the same way she did some days ago, just inches over her hands. “You probably hate me.”

“Hush!” 

“It’s true, I keep you hidden from everyone. I know, I’m terrified to be yelled at. You offer me companionship and I hurt you by denying anyone the knowledge of it. I come and invade your home, I sit on your throne like it’s mine.”

“It is yours.”

“I come and hang on you and and cry into your clothes.” Her body ached at her tears. “I am a selfish, wretched creature… I-I.. I deserve… Nothing.” She sounded utterly defeated. He held her close, he was now in charge of a breakdown like he knew Christine and Madame Giry did. They would sit with her and she would cry and cry. Her little body shivered and shook against him. He shifted to sit back against the love-seat and let her drape her body on his. The position became intimate as she was now between his long legs. She paid no mind so neither did he.   
After a while she grew silent and she finally heard his words.

“I have never hated you. As long as I have brought you to my home I have never hated you. I do not hate you now.” This thought of hers pained him deeply. She was so sorrowful. The pain in her heart spread through her body, every muscle felt sore, and her chest burned with the despairing feeling of emptiness. She was dramatic, and her heart was ready to wither away. She knew that when their bodies would separate the feeling would swell even larger. She refused to look at him, to let go of him, she just wouldn’t. He took the hand off her waist and the feeling of dread already flooded the area.

Erik covered her right hand with his left. He pried her hand from his lapel, and just held it under her chin for a minute. Tears fell on his hand. Her left ear was just by his heart too much to her right. The thing that dismayed her about his is that his heart never quickened at her body against hers. She still heaved her chest every once in awhile and silent tears slipped from her eyes. After she grew this quiet he pulled her hand up to kiss. His action pierced her heart, she buried her face into his chest. He kissed starting at the bottom of her palm and made his way up to the tips of her fingers, with every kiss she grew even more exhausted. After many kisses to her soft skin she was asleep. 

He sat with her for a while, just holding her. He wanted to make sure she was sound, then he shifted her to carry her bridal style all the way to her own bed. Even in this sleep she seemed distressed. Like a sylph who isn’t winning a suitor, greater than human, but so very human just the same. He picked up her bag and found her key before he did so. Once again He was carrying her, again not in the way she wanted. Carrying her away from his home left a pit in his chest as well. She belonged with him, to him. 

He laid her in bed and knelt at her sleeping form. She was red from crying. He hoped very much that she would continue to sleep soundly. She didn’t know it, but he kissed her forehead. If she had know, who knows what she would have done. He left her alone. This night made her yearning grow tenfold, she didn’t know it was possible to want something so much. She would become his wife, or she would eventually die of a broken heart. He left pining for a sign, anything to tell him “She would stay if you asked, if you offered her something wonderful.” Little did he know that all she required was his complete adoration, and little did she know that she already owned it.


	26. Chapter 26 - September 16, 1880 onward

Meg woke with her shawl wrapped around her arms, she held it to her chest. Her eyes were heavy and she wanted nothing but to sleep all day. She wanted to tell them all she was indisposed and that was it. But lying all day would do her more harm and she knew it. Today marked just three shows to closing, it made her sad, but she wouldn’t miss these three shows for anything. Meg felt, for lack of better term, like death herself. She, somehow, got through her day until she laid waiting for Christine to return to their dressing room. 

She weeped silently for no reason in particular, her emotions were running high. Everything made her melancholy somehow, she did catch a break during her morning class. Meg thought of nothing but her lyrics for Cosi. The costume department had just finalized both hers and Christine's dresses. Meg was so excited but there was still a string of exhaustion running through her. Christine could sense it. Romeo et Juliette came and went before Meg could realize. When Meg was left alone in the dressing gown, she felt a sense of relief. She was alone, until she felt his undeniable presence behind her. She hadn’t noticed him enter, she wouldn’t have noticed anyone in her state. 

“Hello.” She whispered, her voice was always soft to him. She didn’t look at him, not yet. Meg jumped at his hand on her shoulder, then melted back down in relief. She didn’t expect him to touch her, it was shock indeed. Erik did say hello to her, then he walked her arm-in-arm to his home. She felt odd, time slowed as he held her arm, then when he left it speed back up again. After what felt like no time to her, she realized she sat at his dining table, sipping his wine. When she came to her senses she caught the end of a question.

“Alright?” Meg looked at him, she was clearly shocked.

“I’m sorry?” She felt odd, and she didn’t know how to shake it.

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes! Now I am. I didn’t feel alright for awhile, I don’t know why. I am better now.” She came to, thankfully she didn’t weaver again that night. He read to her once again, only this time she didn’t ask him to take off his mask, this time she fell asleep. She woke, yet again, in her bed soundly. 

~~~~~~~  
Meg made her way through the next days soundly. The morning of the Romeo et Juliette's closing Meg left after class to pick up the cloak from that lovely seamstress. When she entered the shop the woman didn’t recognize her until she looked at the order on the receipt. The woman, Madame Lully, started to fawn over her and her love.

“Wait right there.” She said with a beaming, knowing smile. Meg waited while she ran her fingers over the smooth silk samples. Lully came out with a big white box. She opened the top to reveal the cloak settled beautifully inside. “Give me your hand love.” She lifted her hand for her, Lully led her hand to the soft velvet and touch the braided cord accenting the collar.

“May I see it?” Lully lifted the cloak right out and held it above her head so the fabric would billow out. Meg gasped at the full piece. The green poking through matched the shawl draped over her arm perfectly. The weather was cooling quickly in Paris so she needed it, but a cloak was too much just yet. Lully came around the counter to let her touch it. She looked at it as lovingly as she did Erik. The woman knew just the look Meg gave. 

“All is well, with your beau I mean.” Meg looked solemn as she thought on the notion. She eventually spoke as she now held the cloak in her arms.

“Yes… very well Madame.” She kept looking at it longingly. “Is it odd I want to wear it?” 

“Why not? he’s not here is he?” Meg put it around her and twirled in girly delight. This is what she loved. It was him, just a touch, and it delighted her so. Madame Lully packaged the gift especially, spectacularly well just for, in the Madames words for her “Dear Meg” Meg made it to her room before she could be asked about the large box. She hid it under her bed until the fateful day of his birth.   
~~~~~~~~~~  
Now, on September 24, Cosi Fan Tutte was set to debut. Meg felt the buzz of opening night. Her and Christine would enter the stage as equals and leave just the same that night. This was just as much her opening as Christine's. Christine's name only goes first on the program because the letter D comes before G. Meg and Christine waited in the wings for their “Lovers” to finish singing.

“Are you ready?” Christine hung on Meg, while Meg stared out to the audience. From the stage left wing you could see The De Chagny box with both brothers and La Sorelli inside.

“Yes, look.” Meg pointed to the box, Christine hadn’t even thought about them yet. Christine smiles lovingly at her boy. Soon it came time for them to appear on stage. Settling into their spots they mouthed well wished to each other, and then a curtain scene rose to unveil them. They wore the same dress only, Christine was in a baby blue and Meg in a soft pink. Christines hair was wrangled into a sophisticated updo, while Meg’s was down. Both wore pretty hats of the opposites color.

The show ended with all seven main characters singing of forgiveness and at the end of the piece they all bowed together. The chorus filled in around them and they took their bow. After them, Meg and Christine separated from the crowd, to show each other off and blow kisses to their actual lovers boxes. When the curtain did actually close, Christine tackled Meg to the ground as usual.

“Will you dine with us? La Sorelli and Philippe will be there.” 

“No. You couples have fun.” 

“Couples? Is that what it’s about?” Meg rolled her eyes.

“No it is not. I am tired, I’ve done a lot today, and to be ready for another full day tomorrow, I must sleep.” Christine knew to stop it there. Eventually Meg was finally left alone. He came to her after a few minutes of her solitude. 

“Congratulations, you have truly outshone yourself, my dear.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it in the manner one of the De Chagny brothers would, then handed her a bouquet of roses outweighing the one Raoul had given her, and the one Raoul had given Christine. She smelled the pink roses and baby's breath as he sat on the fainting couch. A marigold ribbon that matched the dressing gown she wore tied the flowers together. She smiled at the ribbon with extra long tassels. 

“I kept it long. I know you like to wear them in your hair.” Meg blushed and looked up from the bouquet and said a soft thank you. Once again, she was fit for a renaissance painting of a sylph. Her hair was fully down and bushy from it being toiled with all day. Various candles and low gas lamps cast a lovely yellow halo around her. She held the flowers like a lover, she set them crooked on her arm.

“They are so lovely. As always” She added the last bit as she looked him in the eye. He felt the shock of her striking eyes, then his eyes slid to her mouth by accident. Sadly she didn't notice as he watched her add. “My dear.” Even softer than her other light words. Saying “Dear” started as a joke, now they continued to use it under the guise of a running joke. Both wouldn’t admit it, but they enjoyed it so. To Meg it fit so nicely on her tongue, it didn’t shock her to say it. When he said it, she melted at the idea of actual closeness with him. 

“I’m afraid I must leave you now. I must sleep.” They both stood.

“Of course.” She put her bag on her shoulder and kept the flowers on her arm, the key to the dressing room and her room in the same hand. Then she stuck out her free hand for him to kiss.   
“Thank you for your congratulations, good night dear.” She then waltzed out the door and locked it, leaving him without another word or reply. She did that to patrons, always left them wanting more, like it was hard to get him to want more.

“Goodnight… Dear.”


	27. Chapter 27 - September 30, 1880

The opera was closed to prepare for the weekend shows and give rest to performers and staff alike. This was most convenient for Meg, for it was the day that Erik said was his birthday. She never mentioned it again because she wanted to keep her spoiling a complete surprise. Meg hoped he had not figured it out, or seen her bring the package in. She spent the morning writing, and rewriting, a note to Erik. She eventually came to the conclusion to keep it short and sweet. If she had anything else to say, she would when she was with him. After lunch a page came to find her, and bring her to the manager's office. 

“Ah, La Marguerite!” Monsieur Andre grabbed her arm and sat her down in the chair in between La Sorelli and Madame Giry who were already seated. 

“Pardon?” He took a seat next to his business partner around a circular table in between their desks. La Sorelli simply smiled at her. All four looked like they had a little secret to tell. Looking at the managers, then her mother she spoke again. “What is it?” 

“I am retiring Little Meg.” The older dancer spoke like a mother to Meg, she snapped her head to La Sorelli. 

“What?” Meg was confused, the loss of La Sorelli would be felt deeply by the little dancer. “You still dance beautifully why would you leave?” Meg grabbed Sorellis arm.

“It’s my time. My time to pass the torch, and my time to marry.” She grabbed Meg's hand and came close to her face. “I want to be a wife, and a mother before I cannot be one.” 

“Oh.” Meg was deeply saddened by her role models evident retirement. La Sorelli broke into another large smile.

 

“Little Giry…” She got the attention of the blonde. “La Marguerite!” She said in a loud grand manner. Meg still hadn’t figured out what was going on. “If you accept. We all want you to be my successor.”

“La Marguerite, Prima Ballerina Absoluta of the Opera Populaire.” Her mother cut in. Meg flicked her eyes to everyone in the room. 

“Really?” Both managers lept from their chairs, and came around to Meg While both women put their hands on Meg's arms.

“Do you say yes? Mademoiselle?” Firmin inquired  
.  
“Yes. Of course.”

“Then it’s settled!” They sat back down and brought a contract Madame Giry looked over extensively. 

“I will finish Coppelia, and be done as Prima. Please do keep it a secret Little Meg. I am preparing a speech, I will hand off the title to you at the All Hollows Eve Masquerade.” Meg nodded in agreement, the masquerade was a big deal to the performers and patrons a like. “No one expect my fiance, his brother, and everyone in this room know of my departure. I’d very much like it to be kept a secret until my farewell speech.”

“Of course. Anything!” Meg signed the contracts and left the manager's office being unable to stop smiling. When Meg came to her room she sat at her dressing table and prepared to meet him, when she was ready she grabbed the box and made her descent.

No one could deny her beauty, she had the shawl wrapped around her arms, low on her shoulders. Her hair all the way down, and her cheeks rouged lightly. She liked to dress up, especially now for him. The dress was a full bustle with a lacy cream skirt. The bodice, a red stain with low shoulders indicating it was a dress for the evening. It tied in the front for her to do herself and had a piece to go over the laces to be pinned into place. The fabric of the bodice extended over the skirt as an apron then swooped up and to the back then fell to a train. She wore the emerald necklace he gifted her, this time not tucked into her dress. Somehow fate was on her side that night for the cravat he wore was a deep red just like the one she wore.

Erik stood to greet her when she opened the door to the long hall, she had to find the key, open the door, then put the key back so it took her a moment. He stood by the loveseat. She came toward him and when she came into full light he had to keep himself from gasping aloud. Meg was surrounded by the glow his low gas lamps and candles. The dim light made her pink skin a lovely shade, the emerald resting at the point of her dress neckline glittered, and her hair was voluminous and wild. A very becoming picture indeed.

“September thirtieth. You said September thirtieth was your birthday.” He was stunned. She remembered, cared, and came before him with token. It was too much, far too much. Meg searched his eyes for a reaction, then put the box on the love-seat. Just two weeks ago she cried into his chest in the spot he stood in. “So what do you say, open now or later?” 

“I have dinner.” He sounded as stunned as he looked. He shook himself out of her unintentional hold on him and held up his arm for her to take. 

“Later then.” She said lovingly. He hadn’t expected her to be so formal, he in fact forgot himself. Another year would have passed him by without her. This time he didn’t know what to do, no one had ever made any sort of deal about his birthday. Except for the the show his mother made upon his actual birth. He hated the fact that he thought of his mother in her presence. His contempt for the woman shouldn’t even be thought with the likes of a gentle soul like Megs.

“Have you been upstairs today?” He shook his head no. “Then you don’t know my news.” His eyes implored her to continue. “I am to replace La Sorelli as Prima Ballerina Assoluta.”

“I knew you would eventually.” She smiled at his compliment.

“They are to announce it at the Masquerade.” She was beaming. He held up his glass of wine.

“A TOAST! To La Marguerite, You deserve it, for all your hard work and talent.” She touched her glass to his.

“If you could have anything in that box what would it be?” Meg asked as they sat chatting after their meal. She sipped her wine after the question with a wicked smirk. He looked her right in the eye with a look she couldn’t read. It was anything but hatred, maybe love, maybe endearment. 

“Anything you could possibly give to me.” His eyes, plus his words, made her mind run blank. She had nothing to say in return. She took another large sip and spoke softly and breathlessly. 

“Well then, I do trust you’ll like it. I hope.” He smiled, it wasn’t perfect, but it was his. Erik stood and went to pull out the chair for her to stand. She stepped away and refilled their drinks as he cleared the dishes to the sink. When he was done she held up one for her arms for him to intertwine his and escort her to the drawing room. 

“You’ll want to stand.” She made him sit on the throne and gestured to the box. He moved it to the coffee table and slipped the note from under the ribbon knot. Erik read the note and gave her another smile. She echoed his words months ago.

““I found it hard to choose. I felt that a piece similar to the one you gave me would be best. - Meg.” He said her name in a low, and whispered voice. She smiled at his words. He untied the ribbon and held it out to her. “For you, Mademoiselle.” She thankfully took it with a laugh, Meg wrung it in her hands, and pulled on the ribbon for comfort. She was nervous, she didn’t give gifts often so she didn’t know if he’d lie to her or actually like it. Lifting the top he saw what she saw the first time. A pool of beautiful black velvet with a black braiding on the collar. The way it was situated gave no sign of a green lining. He slowly lifted the cloak out of the box.

“Oh, you have outdone yourself, My dear” He laughed after the last words. The joke ran in her, more hurtful than the last time. She hoped that each time she said it back, it would do the same to him. He laughed in shock when it bellowed to show the green lining matching the shawl she wrapped herself in now. “Lovely, lovely.” He said looking at her to find her looking away from him. She moved her eyes to him.

“Try it on for me.” Moved to the empty space in front of the elegant instrument and swung the cape around his body dramatically. She laughed at his large movement. “Perfect! just perfect.” Meg stood, and lifted her dress quickly to sit her knees on the love-seat. Her body draped over the back of the chair. She looked up to him. “So you like it?” 

“Like it? I love it, my dear.” Only this time when he said the words, they brought tears to her eyes. Erik spoke the words in that same low scaring voice, but this time something was different. She turned around quickly to stand. Meg swung her dress into its proper form, she took the time with her back to him to dry her tears before they fell. She sat down on the throne in an attempt to seem like her normal, calm most of the time self. He watched her face when she turned with confusion. She seemed distressed.

He slowly took off the cape and laid it over the back of the love-seat. Erik stepped toward her, he saw her eyes glassy with tears. The necklace glittered with her heavy moving chest. After a few moments of watching her undetected he watched as she calmed herself. He turned to the fireplace and put his hand on the mantel. Meg sat looking away from him as his mind turned to his earlier thoughts unintentionally. 

Erik rarely thought of his mother, when he did, every one of his thought would turn to ice and hatred. He became painfully aware at this moment of the beacons of light in his life because of Meg’s presence next to him.. The small pleasures, music and other arts. As he surveyed his realm, a domain of his pleasures. In his mind he tried to avoid the brightest light. Meg Giry sat in his home as she’s done many times before. In his mind, she was always the brightest. His music frustrated him, every other endeavor frustrated him, Christine even frustrated him at times when he taught her.

Meg was now a constant, a constant that could easily be taken away, and should be taken away. He grew angry, and quickly at his own thoughts. Erik never really thought about how undeserving he was of her kindness anymore. Now was not the time, but the thoughts pushed at his mind, even through his attempt of shifting focus. Erik indulged himself in her gentleness for months. A gentleness he knew was not designed for him. Now, at the hour of her gift, she never saw the shift in him. The shift from carefree and light, to guilty. Guilty that he, someone so unworthy, took so much of her precious time. 

Little did he know that he extended a similar kindness to her. She was lonely before him, he made her less so. She longed to see him, To be free from the chains of isolation. He longed to see her, to be free from the chains of immense self-hatred. Erik slid out of his dress coat and looked at her again, his eyes dark with something indescribable. Meg made the breath catch in his throat. She was indescribable, only three words could come remotely close. As he grew closer to her, he dropped the moniker of death, and came to grips that he was simply a man. She was, just what he said weeks ago. Marguerite Giry, Goddess among Men.

“Marguerite?” His voice was similar to the once in her nightmares. Her hair stood on end. This time she refused to be scared of him, not this time. Meg stood and walked to the end of the loveseat furthest from him and piano. She stopped, her back to him, and put one hand on her chest and the other on her stomach, then responded.

“Yes?” She breathed this word with distress imminent in her voice. He didn't reply for some time. Erik began to softly play with the keys at the very end of the piano. The low notes went through her body like his own deep voice. He kept playing as he asked her the question he longed to for so long.

“Why? Why are you so good to me?” Meg turned quickly to him, a stream of tears graced one side of her face and began to fall from the other. She looked at his hair, and the line of string from the mask imprinted on its dark surface. She then noticed he shed his coat, she saw the well tailored burgundy and black waistcoat. He was so casual, so intimate. 

“Why?” She said incredulously. Meg walked around to the back of the love-seat. He could hear her short, hitching breath just a few steps behind him. “Because you are good to me.” Erik turned as he spoke.

“How could anyone be good to THIS!” He stepped toward Meg, and at his last word he ripped the mask from his skin. The shock of him coming at her so quickly knocked her off her feet. As she fell Meg wrapped her arms around his neck and he lunged to catch her. He stopped her from hitting the ground. Megs upper body just inches from the Persian rug. They stared into each others eyes. 

His breathing was hard, and his eyes beseeched hers. Eriks seething temper quickly soothed as he watched Meg's face. Her eyes wide with fear, not of him, but for him. For what he might do to himself in this state. Erik watched Meg’s eyes flicker over his face slowly. She cried for him, with him. Neither of them would ever be able to tell who moved first. In perfect sync they met for one kiss. It was full of pain and yearning, strong and unmoving. Meg drew away first for some sense of personal strength, she tilted her head all the way back and two streaks of tears fell down the side of her face into her hair.

Erik placed her upper back on the rug softly, then drew away quickly from her body. Meg already felt the pull she’s felt every time he’s left her. The undeniable pit in her chest made her cry even harder. The breath was gone from her body, she turned her head toward the hall, her chest turned with her. Meg felt like her breath would never return, her heart was breaking from his absence. That was proclamation of love for both, yet both were afraid to admit it. Erik stood just above her holding onto the back of the love-seat. He turned his gaze to her quickly to see her, Meg looked as though she wished to wail every sorrow that has plagued her body. He turned back before he spoke to her again

“Why do you cry when I touch you?” Meg gave a crying grunt as she made to stand. Extending to her full height, Meg stood, her body fighting her the whole way. She shook, and looked to the ceiling. With pain on her face she looked at him.

“I don’t cry because you touch me.” She paused to find more breath and another sob. “I cry because you stop touching me.” Her crying hitched a few times. “My dear.” This time she said it differently, like woman in love. Not shrouded by a joke. She turned with her hand to her chest and left him standing alone. She had to leave, she couldn’t stand there while he did nothing. Once she was out of the fifth cellar she ran all the way to her room. 

Meg fished out the key in her dress pocket and opened her door. She didn’t want to be awake another moment to face her sorrow. She threw the shawl on the fainting couch, the corner tassel laid on her dressing table. Meg tore the pins from her dress and undid the lace front. She tore the bodice from her shoulders and unbuttoned her skirt. Stepping out of it and crying she picked it up and threw it on the couch. Next came the various petticoats and bustle cage. She undid the busk of her corset and threw it in her own little rage. Wiping her tears in a childlike fashion she changed from her chemise and bloomers to a thicker nightgown. 

There was no use to wash her face, her tears washed away any trace of makeup. Meg ripped her covers away and she cried into her pillows. She tried anything she could to relinquish her mind of him to no avail. While he was still standing unmoved deep below. Meg spoke into her quiet room in great pain.

“Oh Erik, if only you realized what you’ve done.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat explicit sexual content in this chapter, it is finished in the next. I do not suggest skipping the whole chapter because it would make the next chapter a little confusing, I'd suggest skipping when you become uncomfortable! If you don't mind keep reading as normal. Either way, happy reading!

It was almost as if her words unfroze Erik from his spot. His mind came back to him after a long time of standing in the place she left him in. Coming to his senses he turned to Meg only to find her gone. Realizing she fled he, without thinking, made his way up her room. Erik didn’t realize he was running until he was close to her hall. Stopping before the door of the secret passage he collected what little composure he could. Erik opened the door and came before Meg's own. He began to lightly knock on the door. It was late, many were asleep so he did hope she’d come quickly. 

Meg didn’t sleep, she stared at her wall, the tears were dry. Now what was left was the ache in her chest. Death would be a better fate than her current one. She didn’t hear the first bout of knocks, after a few more they grew louder. Meg ignored them at first, whoever it was she didn’t care. The sound persisted until she pulled her body from her bed to open the door. 

“What?” She opened the door, Meg didn’t expect him to be there. Afraid for him to be seen she pulled him in by the sleeve. Meg shut and locked the door, then turned to him. “Have a seat.” Erik picked up the shawl slowly and sat next to her discarded gown. He held the piece reverently and wrung it in his hands. Erik didn’t look at her, after a few moments she walked to her bed and sat across from him. She looked as tired as she was. Lovely as ever with a blush on her face and her hair unruly. Her appearance made him feel somehow worse. Erik kept her on a pedestal, unreachable and ethereal. She didn’t want that pedestal, she wanted him. 

“Are you going to speak to me?” Erik broke his little resolve and stood, she follow his face up, then followed it back down as he knelt in front of her. Meg noticed he was still maskless. Erik grabbed the hands on her lap, and did what he usually did. He kissed the them the same way he did the first time. First Erik kissed each knuckle of both of her hands. As she didn’t stop him, he continued without hesitation once again. As Erik continued he began to speak.  
“Forgive me.” Erik repeated himself over and over.

“For what?” She was done. Tired of his touch than absence. He turned he hands over and opened her feminine fingers, to kiss each one on both hands.

“For my behavior. For his behavior. Erik is sorry.” He then kissed each palm, and kept repeating “Erik is sorry. Erik is a wretched man.” Over and over. Through his profession he shifted her hands to lay on each side of his face, and covered her fingers with his own. He kept speaking softly in third person, Erik sounded so troubled. The pain in his voice equal the pain in her heart.

She looked up and away from him, He began to press her nails into his skin. This was one of the only moments when Meg regretted her long, well manicured nails. They broke the surface with an awful sound that went through her body. Meg looked at him with complete shock. She tried to pull her hands away, but his strong arms wouldn’t let her. She struggled with him, attempting to pull her hands way with no luck.

“Erik!” She kept trying to make him stop. “Erik please.” He kept going, she tried to pull away but his hold is too strong. “Erik, my love!” she whispered through tears. This proclamation made him losing his grip on one of her hands just enough for her to pull it back. Erik moved with her body as she began to fall back. With her free arm she propped herself up before landing completely on the bed. He was now just inches from her face, while he held her other hand on his face still. His knee somehow made it’s way to rest in between both of hers. 

“Erik, my love, she says” She was shaking and tear-less, she looked in his eyes pleading for something, anything.

Erik tormented himself, In frustration he began to move off of her. Before he could, without thinking Meg took her free arm and threw it around his shoulder. He had no choice but to settle onto her bed next to her. The leg in between hers settled folded and laid flat on the bed. In one fluid motion she now sat on straddled on the crossed leg. They were still once again, just staring into each other's eyes. Meg scanned over his face, her face softened at the marks her nails made on his skin. She slowly moved her hands to hold his neck. Her thumbs rested on his cheeks. She moved to kiss the lowest nail mark on his deformed skin. She kissed all the way up to the middle and largest mark.

“Erik…” She moved to the top mark and made her way back down to the largest mark “... My love…” Erik turned his head to stop her from kissing his face again and found her mouth with his own. Her grip on him never faltered through their passion, she didn’t want to let him go. Usually when she let him go, he left her presence completely. If Meg could think in the moment she’d scream out, and give him grief for waiting so long. They parted after a while, Erik looked at her with so much wonder.

“Why?” He sounded so distressed.

“You touch me and all I want is for you to touch me even more. You kiss me and I never want you to stop” She kissed him quickly. “Ever!” Then another kiss. “You speak, read, and play to me and I want to listen forever.” A few more pecks. “Forever.” Another. “And ever.” Yet another. “And always.” She spoke so softly, like she was telling him a secret even the universe wouldn’t hear. She held his face away from her, and stared him in the eyes. “I am yours.” He met her lips again, and clutched at her waist. She loved the feeling of his hands. Meg could die right then and be content.

She broke the kiss with a large smile and looked down to observe the pin on his cravat. Meg trailed her hands down to the pin and began to undo it, she hesitated though. She didn’t know if he wanted to continue. Erik kissed her forehead.

“Go on.” He felt daring just as Meg. She did just as she said, and untied the fabric as he kissed her temples. When it was pulled from his skin she leaned far, with his help not to fall, to place the pieces on her nightstand. Coming back to meet his lips she moved her hands up and down his chest without thought. Eriks hands fondled the fabric of her nightgown around her waist. The gown was up around her upper thighs already. Meg found her way to the buttons of his waistcoat, it quickly found itself on the floor. Around this time Erik became very aware of her body on his leg. He became more outgoing with his actions and moved one of his hands to her neck.

“Are sure you want this?” He held her from him to look in her eyes.

“I am yours.” Erik took this as a yes and surprised her by tightening his hold on her waist and pushing her down softly onto her pillow. She came back up halfway to kiss him as he trailed his hand down to the crumbled end of her gown. Meg removed her hands from his shoulders to pull her arms through the gown and he lifted it from her body. That found its way to the floor as well. Now she became aware of how bare she was compared to him. The moon and the candle on her nightstand once again created a painting he’d never forget, expensive, and worth millions of admirers. 

The fact that this view was only for him stunned him into a statue for a few moments taking his time to take in every inch of her. Meg’s confidence grew with every second he looked at her. She reached out for his shirt buttons, and undid them slowly. Meg went to kiss him, he kept a grip on her thigh and waist. Encouraging him to go further she grabbed the hand on her waist and moved it up to her breast. Meg didn’t exactly know what she was doing, but she knew what she wanted. Meg knew what she wanted from him, through dreams and her own imagination. 

Something in him shifted when she kissed him and pushed her body into his palm. He shifted his hold on her to something more pleasurable and pushed her back down onto her pillows, this time moving with her. Erik moved off of the bed and unfolded her legs. While he abandoned his clothes she shifted up even more on her pillows. He came back to join her on the bed, and made his way to settle between her legs. They kissed and reveled in each others bodies. She kept him close, in a moment of daring action he slid his hand to the place she was so familiar with herself. Erik repeated motions she had know from her own hand, but would never feel the same as it did under his ministration. 

She accepted anything he gave her, she spoke words between kisses and caresses of love. As her pleasure increased she became less talkative and kept a firm grip on his shoulders. Erik began to kiss her temples and say the words she gave him back. He told her how beautiful and kind and gentle she was. After a while he slipped a finger into her, than another. Her hips rocked with each movement. When he came to finally saying the three words everyone wants to hear. ‘I love you.’ When he actually said it, Meg looked him in the eye, she was close to the brink.

“Stop.” He immediately did so in fear of her changing her mind, or worse the possibility him hurting her.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” She said quickly and quietly. “It’s just… I want you… Please?” 

“Of course.” He positioned himself for her, and gave her one last look for consent, she nodded her head to him and he finished his movement. With this she moved head back. What she expected, discomfort told to her by other ballet girls, was incorrect. The bliss from their union was far too great for any possible discomfort. She finally felt like all of their mutual pining was being rewarded. He kissed her neck as they rocked together. 

After a time Meg knew she couldn’t keep quiet, she kissed him to try to muffle her sound. It worked until they both came close to their finish. He knew he was closer so he slid his other hand from her neck to repeat his actions from before with his movements. After a short time of this he finished just before her, she made to bite his shoulder in the process. He watched her writhe under him, amazed that he brought these movements to her. She tilted her head back again to finish her ecstasy. 

He placed kisses on her face and neck. Meg dreaded him moving from her, but when he did she was surprised she didn’t feel the pit in her chest she usually did. Just love for him, for everything about him, with him. Erik returned her affections. Happiness was not a good enough word for her. Bliss? Euphoria? Exhilaration? Nothing could describe it, nothing. He kissed her and she kissed him. Their own perfect little world. 

“How could you ever-?” 

“Hush.” After a few more kisses she broke away. “How could I ever?” She turned her head and gave a painful laugh. “I have shown you myself, I would never do so if I didn’t love or trust you.” 

“Then please all I ask, never stop.” She turned back to him and shook her head.

“Never, never. Nev-er.” After many kisses she realized just how tired she was. They grew quiet and just held each other. He noticed sometime later that she fell asleep. Erik however stared at her ethereal form, as he did his thoughts shifted from his jovial thoughts to ones of fear for their future would she marry him? Would she be fine with having his child? She must if she went this far with him, unless she didn’t realize. After sometime of thought he made to stand, she didn't notice. He dressed mostly. He began to shake her awake, he would feel awful if she had woken up in his absence.

“Meg.” She woke up groggily. “I’m leaving for something downstairs, I will return shortly. Alright?” She shook her head and he pull the cover over her bare skin. He blew out the candle and went to collect some items in a rush to return to her.


	29. Chapter 29

Meg woke herself up awhile after he left. She put the nightgown back on, she felt odd without it alone, and actually put away her clothes. Meg didn’t want to just lie and wait for him.. She looked out the window of her tall room, a perk of having a room on the edge of the building. Paris was different. Meg remembered Paris was different when she realized she was in love, afterall Paris is for lovers. She realized that the Parisian night changed again under the guise of being loved. It was brighter, more vibrant, the moon shined even better. She heard a knock on her door, opening it quickly Erik came into the room with a tray. 

“A samovar?” She laughed a little. He set the tray down on her dressing table then kissed her. 

“It’s for the morning.” Erik sat on the bed, “Come here.” She stood in front of him, the look on his face grew worried. This of course worried her much.

“You are- Have you.. Have you thought of the consequences?” She looked at him with confusion. “Of a union…” He glanced to the bed. As he did something in her mind connected the dots. Meg didn’t think of a child. It was possible, incredibly possible. She put her hands on her mouth in shock and made a little gasp. He watched waiting for a response, his hands on her waist. She grabbed his hands and sat next to him.

“Please forgive me… I was selfish, I didn’t think about it. I was to happy for you to return my affections. I didn't. I wouldn’t have on purpose if you didn’t even like the idea of a child-.” 

“You do ramble so, La Marguerite.” She groaned and laid back onto the bed.

“I’m about to be given Prima Ballerina, what if I ruin it Erik?” 

“You won’t.” He lent down to kiss her. They kept at it for awhile, eventually he elaborated. “Queen Anne's Lace seeds.” He said through kisses.

“What?” He worked his way down to her throat. She had heard of them, a girl in the opera eats them some morning claiming they were for good health. 

“A way many women prevent pregnancy, by eating the seeds crushed and put into a drink. Mostly foolproof, but better than nothing.” She gasped and covered her mouth to keep her from becoming too loud. 

“That’s why she eats those dreadful things!” She laughed. “Why do you know that?”

“I’m was lonely man remember. I’ve learned many things from books, dearest.” They spent many moments loving on each other. 

“It’s late. I have class in the morning.” It had grown quite late, many life changing events have taken place under the Parisian moon. He had her stand and drink the tea already made with the crushed lace seeds. The taste was masked by a flavored tea. Erik watched her come back to him, before she got into bed he stopped her. “What?”

“Do you wish to be married?” She smiled at him and put her hands around his face. 

“Only if it is you who will be my husband.” Erik was shocked at her quick response. Not a moment of thought came from her.

“So you will marry me?” 

“Forever and always my love.” The reveled in the closeness they now shared. Kisses and sweet phrases were on their lips. Eventually Meg fell asleep in Erik’s arms, he followed soon after.

She woke before her alarm to see a sleeping Erik, Meg had to admit, it was an odd but extremely comforting sight. Meg thought upon the events of the night. The fear, the pleading, the sorrow… and the immense joy. She never thought their relationship would advance that quickly in one night. His confession of love wiped away every sense she had. Meg wanted him, and she got him. The consequences are of course life changing, and at the most inconvenient time, but if a child was to come in tow, she’d carry her life with grace as she always had. It was a waiting game now. 

Through kisses she fell asleep with him on top of her. Erik was between her legs and she held onto him. She ran her hands over his deformity that was raised toward the ceiling, the smooth side of his face laid on her breast. Meg noticed the blood under her nails, his blood. She hated the marks he made her create on his skin. She trailed her hand down to his shoulder and began tracing the bruise from when she bit down onto his skin. Meg couldn’t help but giggle. A man laid on her breast, a man she loved and a man who returned her sentiments at that.

She tried to stop, she didn’t want to wake him. Meg found out that he stayed like a rock. She expected to him to be a light sleeper, those who experience trauma like his in their life would be. When her alarm did go off he barely stirred. She took the initiative to kiss him awake, that eventually worked. Meg stood up as he took over her pillows. She put on her dressing gown and went to the end of the hall. As Meg finished washing the blood from her hands that girl Marine came in to fill her own pitcher with water.

“Hello, Marine.” Another girl was in the room. Not many girls were left in the hall. “Hello, Little Meg.” She said it with an attitude that did spoil Meg’s mood. The air around the girl usually put Meg on edge, but Meg was perfect at playing nice, she’s done it so well over the years. She went to leave the room and return to her own. 

“Why did the managers want you yesterday?” Meg stopped and had to think quickly. 

“Nothing for them, my mother wanted my opinion on something.” It wasn’t a lie per-say. “See you in class.” Marine said bye in that arrogant tone she'd used for only Meg many times before. When Meg returned to her room she rolled her eyes as she laid on her door after locking it.

Meg opened her wardrobe to pull out her white rehearsal dress. Pulling off her nightgown she put on one of her shorter chemises, tights, and slipped the dress on. She set herself up for failure the night before, she wore her white corset to go with this rehearsal dress but when she took it off she didn't even try to undo the laces. So putting it back on would be a feat. Snapping the busk in continued frustration he finally spoke to her.

“What has you so frustrated?” She looked pointedly at him.

“Marine.” She sat at her dressing table to attempt to fix her hair.

“Who?”

“You say you know everyone under the employ of the opera but you don't know a senior ballet rat? How many of us do you even know?”

“Well you, Christine, and girl who gets in trouble a lot. Little James?” 

“Jammes! Erik, her name is Little Jammes.” 

“To be fair I hardly know any of the singers chorus by name.”

He readied himself to leave as she did. It felt like perfect domestic bliss in her room high above his actual one. Erik sat on the fainting couch next to her dressing table and just watched her. His entire demeanor turned awkward, Erik didn’t know what to do or how to interact with her now.

“Have you chosen your costume for the Masquerade.” She grunted.

“No I need to go to that nice seamstress that did your cloak. I’m sure she’ll make something wonderful.” 

“Give me your measurements.” She looked at him confused. “You have them for dresses, do you not?” She fished out a card from her last appointment at a dressmaker. “I will have it for you before the party.” 

“Alright.” He made to stand. She did as well and made sure everything was in her dance bag. Erik grabbed her shoulders to make her look at him.

“You have to promise me something. Do not come to my home until I bring you there. If you need me go to my box and pull the gold cord by the ledge. I will be there shortly.” She shook her head. “Do you promise?”

“Yes of course, anything.” He was wild all of a sudden. Erik kissed her like it would be their last, powerful and strong.

“I love you.”

“And I you, dearest.” He held her until it was most definitely time for her to go. They left her room together, she went first to make sure the hall was clear. When it was, he slipped into the secret passage. They said goodbye and she fled to the second cellar.


	30. Chapter 30

Making her way to her spot next to Sorelli Meg felt different. Like she finally knew something her many other experienced friends knew. La Sorelli leaned in real close to her.

“How does it feel?” Meg stopped, forgetting she was going to be taking over La Sorellis title. 

“Rewarding. Thank you, for everything.” Meg felt so many warm feelings toward La Sorelli. She’s looked up to her for so long, and now to be ready for the same honor that is place upon the elder was remarkable. Meg went through her day with quiet ease, her heart did yearn for him but this time it wasn’t the same yearning as before. She had his love for sure, now she wanted to touch him, always. Meg had nothing after class until Cosi Fan Tutte that night. She ate as normal with her friends and retreated to her shared dressing room to wait for Christine.

Meg read on the fainting couch until after some time she had to lay the book on her chest with a smile so big and wicked she felt silly. Meg Giry a woman in love! Sadly many things suddenly bit at her mind. He is a killer, he was once obsessed with her best friend, a friend she couldn't even tell of her love, he scared her, she could eventually be with child, at a pivotal point of her career. The waiting was the worst part. Of course these things don’t happen overnight. She must wait.

The tables have somehow turned on Christine. Now her sister was in a secret engagement. This time it was different because Christine didn’t know the secret like Meg had known hers. Of course Meg felt bad, Meg never kept things from Christine. Even keeping Christine's birthday presents from her was too hard for Meg at times. In fact the birthday after Christine came to the opera Meg came so close to not telling her until one night they were talking to each other from their beds and Meg just flat out told the brunette. 

She laid with the troubling thoughts until her eyes grew heavy, just after she fell asleep she felt a hand on her waist and a body next to her. Meg of course knew it was him, his cologne was too recognizable. Through her sleepy body she reached up her arms to embrace him. He lent his tall torso to her so she could wrap her arms around his neck. Meg took in his scent and kissed his cheek. They stayed like this as she almost fell back to sleep.

“Who are you to play tonight?” Erik spoke softly to her.

“Dorabel-la.” She spoke in a sing song voice. Meg’s mind was heavy with sleep, her reactions made him laugh. It was odd for him, this intimacy. Before they proclaimed their love for each other, he courted her in a way. Erik kissed her hands and her forehead. He was close to Meg, they knew so much of each other it was exciting to have a new aspect of each other to explore. Erik didn’t feel like he had the right to be so close, he caused her so much pain and sorrow. Even now as they revealed in their own little world, his actions caused her fear.

Meg at that very moment didn’t care if her mother, or worse, Christine walked in to find them in each other's arms. In a way it would solve her dilemma. Meg still had no clue how to tell either of them. Erik would rather flee before her mother had the chance to learn. Meg’s mother was his savior, how would she feel having a murderer love her daughter. Would Meg still wed him if her mother disproved? 

Erik found Meg’s lips and they fell into a natural rhythm immediately. Again this proved to Meg that they were created for each other. It took some time for their souls to find each other, now that they have, she wouldn’t let him go without a fight. Or for a disapproving mother. 

“I visited the seamstress you spoke of.” Erik told her as they held onto each other. 

“What is my costume?” Meg spoke into his ear. 

“Ah-ah dear, that is a surprise.” 

“Give a girl a hint.” Meg spoke once more into his ear, this time more seductive than the first. She kissed just above his collar and worked her way up and around to his mouth. 

“It odd that I have the liberty to kiss you. Now I never want to stop.” This confession momentarily stunned Erik into silence. In response he simply brought her closer to him and kissed her. Meg broke away and brought her hand back to swiftly swipe his mask off in one motion. She put her hand under the nape of his neck held the mask in her fingers. Meg didn’t wear her stockings just yet so to not catch a run, her bare leg came in view as her dressing gown fell open at his hand. A provocative picture indeed.

If someone had walked in, it was be absolutely impossible to recover. The door was locked, but Madame Giry and Christine had keys. Erik held her in a way she always wanted to be held by him. Now that she’s felt it, she knew she’d long for the sensation in the dead of night. The grandfather clock on Christine's side chimed the new hour. Erik laid her softly back onto the tall slope of the couch and broke the kiss slowly, her head trailed with him as before finally breaking away. He held her hand then spoke as he kissed her cheek and trailed down to her neck.

“I came to wish you well tonight, I will be working.” Erik now had to focus on two projects between now, October first, and the masquerade. In just less than a month his life's work must be completed. He also worked on a surprise for Meg.

“Is that why I am not allowed to visit your home.” 

“Yes dearest. Your presence will distract me too much. I must finish Don Juan. I have to finish.” He didn’t dare tell her of his other project.  
“I know you’ll finish, I hope you do early. I wish to be a distraction.” He didn’t see that happening, but he would allow moments of pleasure in this very dressing room and in her own room. 

“Revel in being away from my home.” He kissed her lips once more, then went to speak in her ear. His tone similar to the one that made her slightly panic, but excited her now. “My home is to be yours.” She grabbed his arms tighter than before and pushed him until he looked her in the eye. 

“Ours?” She breathed to him, her eyes imploring his.

“Ours. My love.” She hugged him tightly, a bright smile graced her lips, she was positively beaming. In all seriousness, she never forgot she was now engaged. All through morning class she thought about being a bride. Something she never knew she wanted as bad as she now did. 

“I should go.” He didn’t try to move.

“I know.” They both stayed still. “I refuse to move first.” He let go of her waist slightly and kept his hands on her body till the very last second, he sat up straight. Erik reached for his mask, when he held it in his hands and looked at her. Her smile was vibrant and undestroyable, even if he was leaving, she was too happy to stop. Before he could put it on she shot up and kissed him passionately one more time. 

“Go.” Meg spoke as they slowly laid their heads on each others foreheads. He gently stood and fixed his mask and ensemble into place. Meg stood and fixed her dressing gown as she walked around the couch to him. He opened the mirror door, then turned around quickly and swept her up into a deep kiss. Erik did eventually break away, his hands slip off her waist once more and he disappeared into the dimly lit corridor. She watched him walk until he turned down the steps, Erik looked at her with a boyish smile in return to her bright one and fled to his lair. 

Meg shut the mirror and went to sit at her dressing table stool. She looked in the mirror, her lips a pinker color from his kisses and her hair wild from him and her little slumber. Meg picked up her hair from underneath and made it pile on top of her head with her interlocked forearms. She posed a few times. Would she wear her hair up on her wedding day? Would that make her a better picture of a bride? Meg secretly wished she had a ring to kiss, so she settled for kissing her left ring finger. She turned on the stool and sat up taller, then posed with her chin up, her bright smile still not leaving her face. Just after she did Christine unlocked the door and entered.

“Hello Christine.” Meg sounded as happy as she felt. She picked up her hair with her interlocked forearms once again and posed.

“Hello Meg!” Christine turned to she Meg’s poses and wide grin. “And what has you in this mood, dear ‘Uerite?” The brunette in a happy mood herself walked to stand behind Meg. They looked at each other in the mirror, two happy beings in love.

“Why can’t I just be in a good mood ‘Stine? I did nothing yesterday, and had a very easy morning. I am relaxed and ready to sing with you, dear sister.”

“You are right? I am glad to see you this way, it’s been rare lately.” This struck Meg oddly as Christine kissed her cheek. The smile faltered and returned quickly as to not alarm Christine. Christine sat on the fainting couch to chat, Meg looked back the piece of furniture. This piece genuinely returned the smile to her face, the thought of him loving her and showing it over powered her thought of sadder times.

The two girls chatted as the dressers came to prepare them, they warmed up together as they did their makeup and warmed up with the group. The show went off with a few new-show hiccups but ran smoothly. As Meg wouldn’t see Erik that night she had dinner with her mother. The first meal they shared in a long time. Of course the whole time she wanted to tell of her good news. She kept quiet until she laid in her bed. Meg spoke the words aloud.

“Maman, Christine. I am in love with Erik and we are to be married.” She smiled wide and turned her head into her pillow to keep her school girlish squeal hidden.


	31. Chapter 31 - October 16, 1880

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat explicit sexual content in this chapter, it is finished in the next. I do not suggest skipping the whole chapter because it would make the next chapter a little confusing, I'd suggest skipping when you become uncomfortable! If you don't mind keep reading as normal. Either way, happy reading!

In the month leading up to the masquerade the managers were in full swing to push Coppelia and Cosi Fan Tutte. Meg happily went along for the ride, she mingled with patrons to keep them happy. Christine and Meg went to little parties and salons arm-in-arm for a little fun themselves. Meg rarely saw Erik so she had to stay occupied somehow. He was so occupied with his music and his projects, he did visit her just as he promised. Marine kept up her airs, over the days they dug into Meg deeper and deeper.

Just after halfway through October, on one of the days Meg didn’t have a show, she came back to her room after class and lunch to find him reading a book waiting for her. His tall body stayed relaxed when she walked deeper into the room and kicked off her slippers she wore around the opera. Erik laid the book on his chest and watched her pull the ribbon from her hair and drop the piece on her dressing table.

“It’s good to see you.” He spoke as she moved to keep undressing. “I drew myself away, I’ve been too scarce. Though I do admit, I did want to see you.” She kept her eyes on him as she reached down and under her skirt to unite the garters that held each stocking. Meg folded them up and laid them on her nightstand. “My bride.” This new name made Meg daring. She slipped off her bloomers, lifted the edge of her skirt a tad and put one knee on the bed and then swung her other leg over to straddle him. She laid out her gauzy skirts around her. 

Her movements of course startled him. Erik was not used to such advances, but he did welcome them from her. Meg leant down and kissed him. Before she did she stopped and took off his mask, then proceeded. She moved her hands to pick up the book and read the name. Then she flipped it open and flicked through the pages, then snapped it shut.

“I do believe this is my book... did I lose my place?” He lifted his torso to take it back and put it on her nightstand. She stopped him by putting her hand on his chest and tisked thrice as she went to kiss him again. Erik tried to take the book a few more times. He took his liberty to grab her waist. He had to stop her moving or another child causing event would take place if she didn’t stop him. 

Meg wouldn’t stop him if he tried, it would take a lot for her to do so. She started to kiss down to his collar, her hands traveled to his cravat pin and undid the tie. Erik wasn’t one to stop these advances, but he would be damned if he stalled her career as Prima. Meg did think it was odd he didn’t return her touch.

“I am not pregnant, I know for a fact. Either chance was on our side, or my body reacts to the Queen Anne's Lace. Which is likely because it works for another two girls in the chorus.” She kissed his lips, his hands found their way under her skirt. 

“I will not stand in the way of your title.” 

“And I will not have my title stand in the way of us. A title others covet and suspect I already own. A title that causes me loneliness, and hard remarks from people who claim to be my friends.” She was stubborn, he knew that on the first night they met. Every second of her touch broke down the wall he set up in an attempt to help her. Erik knew she spoke of Marine, he payed attention to her now on stage and in his hiding. Frustrated she sat up and tried to move off of him, but he stopped her.

“What? I understand you are trying to protect me, but I can’t tell you that I wouldn’t take the risk all over again. I feel like I have waited forever for you, I can wait a little more… If I must.” She had tears in her eyes, they dried quickly but they were undeniable. 

“Dearest.” He sat up, and kissed her face. “I will do what whatever you ask of me.” He kissed the other side of her face. “I wish to ease your pain. I know I have caused you so much sorrow.” Two single streams of tears fell from her eyes as she looked to the ceiling, he quickly kissed them away.

“Touch me. Hold me. Give yourself to me as I give myself to you.” He held her tight as he kissed her. Her pain was evident. The more he left her alone, the memories of the loneliness she felt many months ago came flooding back. Each remark would etch into her ego. Her mental health would falter under the loneliness. Meg did not wish to feel this way, she didn’t want to rely on anyone that much. His companionship began to permanently heal the wound that was once held together by Christine. Her loves, the stage and most of all Erik, began to actually repair the rift in her heart.

Now in her hour of need, he could comfort her physically after all this time. She sought comfort in him always. As he kissed her Meg thought of nothing else but Erik, their life together, and the physical pleasure he gave her so easily. The hand under her skirts met her center, as he prepared her for himself. Meg quickly grew heated. Her hip would gently twitch at Eriks fingers, Meg trailed her hand down to undo his trousers. Just as he brought her over the edge she had to stop and grab onto the front of his waistcoat. 

As she came down Meg pushed Erik back onto the bed and settled onto him. The hand on her waist clenched harder than before. These actions were still completely new to Meg, to both of them. Since they were both new to this, they both learned each others bodies carefully and without hesitations. Kisses and caresses were in abundance. After they finished Meg laid her head on his chest, her hands clutching his clothes. One of Eriks hands enveloped one of her clutched ones and the other was tangled in her hair. 

“Would you like dinner?” His chest rumbled under her. Erik left her to make something and bring it back. He still refused to let her come to his home. When he returned to her she was in her nightgown and her extravagant pink dressing gown. They ate and acted like a newlywed couple kissing between bites. Meg laid back on her pillows, he joined her. After some time of him humming, Erik jumped up with the inspiration for a part of Don Juan. She sadly let him go, his work was so important to him. Meg smiled at his excited words and kiss goodbye. He left the pretty little samovar for her.


	32. Chapter 32 - October, 1880

After Coppelia closed Meg and La Sorelli cried in each others arms for the secret they knew. Mademoiselle Sorelli told no one of her departure but her fiance, Philippe, and the people in the office when they gave Meg the position. They, at La Sorellis command, swore not to tell anyone or speak of it until La Sorelli spoke at the masquerade. Megs idol passed the title to her younger, more than capable, friend. They were more like sisters now. 

“Will you come to my wedding?” Sorelli asked before stepping into the fancy carriage.

“If I am invited, yes.” They giggled and Philippe helped Sorelli up the carriage steps. Meg kissed the elders cheek after Philippe said his gentlemanly goodbye and joined his love in the carriage. Stepping away from the curb as they drove off Meg cried silent tears. 

Paris was cool, and the nighttime autumn breeze swept her hair around softly. A new era was upon her, she was going to hold one of the highest title in the opera. Technically surpassing her dearest friend. La Carlotta still officially held the title of Prima Donna and was still adored by the patrons and the managers. 

“Meg?” Madame Giry called to Meg from the steps, she turned to her mother and worked her way up the steps. Meg nodded to her mother's knowing face and walked right past her into the opera. She went to her dressing room to leave the dress for future calls. Realizing she had no one to undo the back she sat down in exhaustion. She was tired. As she held her head in her hands Meg jumped when she felt his hands on her shoulders. 

“Oh.” She whispered and reached up her arms to embrace him. Erik laughed as she clung onto him. “I’m scared?” She did tremble a little.

“Whatever for?” 

“What if I’m not ready? What if La Sorelli made a mistake?” He shushed her with reassuring words. Erik kissed her temple.

“Do you mind?” Meg pointed at the back of her dress. She watched as he fumbled with the buttons and smiled at the little bit of domesticity in their unconventional relationship. When he was done she slipped out of the rest of the ensemble down to the corset. She slowly put on the marigold dressing gown. Even in her exhausted state she was as beautiful as ever. Meg stepped up to him and hugged him, they stood for a long time this way. She reached up to his tall height to kiss him, he still had to meet her, even on her toes. 

“I have your costume, I left it in your room.” 

“What is it?” 

“Do you like horses my dear?” Meg pushed him back to look at him. “It’s a version of a riding suit. Mine is virtually the same, it is a metaphor for The Masque of the Red Death.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just days after, Cosi Fan Tutte closed as well with tears and excitement for the great party. A masquerade, perfect for halloween. The Opera was in full swing to make the grand building immaculate for the fabulous, and very rich, patrons. Performers were encouraged to attend and make the benefactors happy. Everyone Involved was filled to brim with excitement.


	33. Chapter 33 - October 31, 1880

Meg spent the morning of the masquerade with Cecile and Brigette.   
She brought down her costume to prepare with them in the ballet girls dressing room. Meg took a place at her old spot in her underthings as she tied the top layer of her hair up to make a nice resting place for the hat Erik provided her with. A collection of ballet girls prepared for the night in full glamour. Champagne and other wines made their way into the oh so willing girls mouths. The young women were already saucy, the perfect people to fill the grand foyer.

Some already tipsy ladies started singing songs, The rest joined in happily. Madame Giry walked in to find Meg, and every other girl, having so much more fun than ever. Madame Giry wore her usual black mourning wear, this time with a sparkling black cape. Her stern brow was loose, and soft. The elder kissed her daughter's cheek and went to mingle with the managers. Meg finished most of her makeup when Brigette stepped into her view in the mirror.

“A butterfly! Brigette, how fitting.” The little black haired girl twirled as Meg turned to actually look at her. Brigette was a little flighty thing, fluttering around with Little Jammes. A beautiful dancer, and girl, but shy. The costume came above her knee, the skirt was full and sparkly purple. Details of green graced the skirt all the way up to the bodice. On the front of said bodice the shape of a butterfly's body rested. Two “wings” hung from her arms, when they were down you couldn’t see them but when she raised her arms you could see the green wings. She wore a hat with antennas and a purple mask.

“How about me Little Meg?” Little Jammes posed with a hand behind her head and the other on her hip. “A Gibson Girl! I should be drawn by him himself.” Little Cecile idolized the Gibson Girl portraits, so it was perfect for her to wear. She wore a red waistcoat with an blue open jacket. Something shocking about her ensembles was the fitted culottes shorts. She wore blue tights underneath and tall blue boots. She looked like she was about to go cycling in one of those fashionable new cycling suits for women. With little appliques all over the costume she wore a flat hat and a red mask. 

“I guess I’ll put mine on.” Meg walked past them to the box and smoothed a pair of black form fitting pants covered in sparse little red polka dots over the short chemise and black corset. She put on a long Justaucorp style riding habit, it nipped at her waist then flared down to the middle of her thigh. Many stiff layers made the jacket puff out like a skirt, It was open in the front to how her polka dotted legs. Along the buttons ran black velvet all the way up to the tall folded collar. From each button was a swirling applique. 

The black met the bright blood-scarlet red velvet with black and gold cording. Like a true justaucorps a large pocket settled on each side of the skirt. The jacket sleeves stopped just short of her wrist to show a folded over cuff decorated with gold swirls and lace hung from the inside. Meg tied the large lace jabot and buttoned the jacket to encase the ample fabric. 

“Could you help me with my shoes?” She giggled when she remembered she’d have a hard time getting them on with the corset. She undid the buttons the primarily black shoes covered in gold just like on the jacket. They helped her step into them and buttoned them for her. They laughed as she settled the small riding hat on top of her hair she curled even more than her usual curls and waves. 

A thick red ribbon made from the same fabric as the jacket tied at the back in a large bow and then fell down her hair to her waist. The last few inches of the ribbon was black, gold tassels hung from the looping gold cords at the bottom. Forgoing a mask, a birdcage veil came from the hat and spilled over her face, she could move it up onto the brim if she wanted. 

“And where's your horse?” Little Cecile giggled to her

“And where's you cycle?” Little Meg quipped back. Meg ran up to her room to drop off her things. After a little bit more time, the ballet girls left in their little friend groups. The three ballet girls were one of the firsts to leave. When they arrived to the grand foyer many patrons flooded through the doors and already began their drinking as they came from fancy dinners. The night would be grandest party Paris had seen for a long time.

So many colors whizzed and buzzed around Meg as the party was in full swing. Drinks and desserts were everywhere. The managers were extravagant people, decadence ran wild and free. She saw many familiar faces. She watched from the first level of the steps where they split into two different staircases. Cecile and Brigette chatted next to her until they saw a set of wealthy twins. The girls ran to them leaving Meg watching from the landing. 

She saw Carlotta in a spider costume and Piangi like the sun. The managers as cartoon-like skeletons. Her mother standing by them and their wives in matching costumes, one like the morning, one as the night. Other ballet chorus and singers chorus members dressed in the most interesting of things. She saw soldiers and pirates, queens of nature and patriotic symbols, anything really. 

Meg spotted La Sorelli coming up the stairs with her dear Philippe. Philippe indulged his fiance and wore something like a soldier in a ballet would, while Sorelli wore a cream ballet costume with little wings. The gauzy skirts were long and she looked like air. Around her waist was a belt covered in false flowers. Her hair was down like Meg usually wears hers and she glittered. Meg stepped to the top of the stairs to meet her. The older dancer hugged her tight.

“Hello La Marguerite.” 

“Oh stop it. You're scaring me.” 

“Well you must stop, I am announcing you tonight.” Meg shook her head up and down quickly, and looked to Philippe as La Sorelli looked to him.

“I must mingle.” She rolled her eyes. “Though I’d rather stay with you.”

“Alright.” She turned to Philippe. “Has your brother and Christine arrived. He pointed them out to her, just then Christine caught them in her eye. She waved gleefully and they waved back. 

Meg made her way down the surprisingly empty steps down to the curl of the rail to meet Christine and her little Vicomte. Raoul made an ode to his days as a soldier with a Hussar costume, a little plain, but handsome none the less. While Christine was as ethereal as ever. She wore a dress, light as air like Sorellis. The bodice was short with lines of sparkling beads going up and down and side to side. The neckline went right across her shoulders in a pastel blue that faded into a pastel pink down the dress, finally ending in a pink cream at the bottom. Lines of but five-point stars ran along the full cone shaped skirt.

The mask in her hand was silver like the stars and matched the tiara she wore. It was a large crescent surrounded by stars. Her heeled boots were silver as well. Christine wore the ring Raoul gave her around her neck on a necklace. Meg told Christine, who hadn’t noticed, that it made its way out of her bodice. The engagement was still a secret though every suspected. 

After some time of fawning over each other and dancing with various partners Meg and Christine ended up standing at the other curled rail for rest, Cecile and Brigette joined them and they spoke like they did months ago. La Sorelli came around and whispered into Meg's Ear. It was time. Meg excused herself and walked up to the first level up the grand stairs and took her place just a few steps beside La Sorelli.

The current Prima stood in the center while the managers stood around her. Her mother next to Andre and Philippe next to Firmin. Meg stood next to her mother and other, older ballet girls flooded down against rails. Cecile and Brigette just a few steps away, while Christine and Raoul stayed at the bottom. The managers started to call for attention. When the whole place was finally quiet, La Sorelli began her speech.

“Hello everyone.” She received a chorus of hellos. “Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Andre have created a wonderful party and you all look lovely. ” She took a pause to let prepare for her news. “You know me as La Sorelli, Prima Ballerina of the grand Opera Populaire. I am regretfully happy to tell you… I am stepping away from my title and leaving the opera.” Gasps came from the ballet girls, some grew excited for the possibility of replacing her, most from the girls truly sorry. More gasps came from patrons who thought her pretty. She scanned over the faces of the little girls she watched turn into women over the years.

“So. I am willing to bet you want to know who is to replace me.” Meg shifted in her spot as she saw Marine grow taller, ready to hear the news. “I have watched the young ladies of the ballet school grow and excel under Madame Giry. A true artist in her craft. I and everyone else who has studied at the Opera Populaire, have learned much from her. I am deeply proud of all the dancers I have seen everyday. The girls who clung at my skirts while I tried to protect them from the dangers of the opera.” Tears escaped from Meg’s, Sorellis, and other emotional ballet rats.

“When I made my resignation known, I requested three things. One, that I would have a say in who replaced me. Two, that it be kept a secret. And Three, that I would be the one to announce it.” She paused to keep everyone on edge. La Sorelli reached to her belt and untied it, she held it in her hands. “This is the belt I wore when I debuted at the opera as Prima. I wish to give it to the one who truly deserves it. She has worked so very hard in her life to be where she is.” Meg cried the hardest, but she kept her face as stoic as possible.

“So I am overjoyed! Pleased and so very proud to announce to you. The new Prima Ballerina of the opera Populaire.” She turned to the blonde. “Meg.” She walked to Sorelli and settled into a deep bow like she would on stage, one hand behind her, one in front of her chest. Sorelli tied the belt around her upper arm. Megs costume didn't give her much choice. The elder touched Megs chin to have her stand. At their full height Sorelli still stood much taller. She turned Meg to the crowd. She yelled and hugged Meg's shoulders from behind. “La Marguerite!” 

Meg finally smiled with delight at the applause from her peers, patrons, and most importantly her mother. Christine yelled the loudest and clapped the hardest as she watched Meg. Meg turned to Sorelli and hugged her tight. She whispered thank yous and i love yous until Sorelli turned to embrace Philippe. Erik watched from afar as the managers and everyone around her congratulated her. After the excitement turned back to dancing and mingling, Meg made her way down to Christine. He let her have her time, now it was his turn to give the people what they whispered about.

Christine was so proud of her dear friend. The party was in full swing around them. It was all becoming too much for Meg, it was loud and so many colors whizzed by her. Christine didn’t notice Megs faint attitude. At when it seem like the music couldn’t get any louder, Meg caught the sight of a red figure at the top of the right side of the split stairs. The music stopped, gasps filled the foyer, and Meg stared at the person she knew so well.

Christine felt his presence and watched Meg shake. Christine turned around slowly to confirm what she knew. He laughed a bellowing sound, as Erik took a step it seemed like the orchestra played like a stomp. Christine stepped forward like she was in a trace, slowly step by step as Erik came to the managers at the first tier. 

“Why so silent?” He leaned forward with arrogance. “Good Monsieurs.” Erik drug his words out, his voice rippled into every person in the opera. Meg followed Christine up the stairs just behind. Christine stopped about a quarter of the way up. Meg stood just behind her. His eyes flicked to Carlotta, Piangi, and Madame Giry. Each but the ballet mistress jumped under his gaze.

“I! Have written you an opera!” He paused and scanned the room. “Don Juan TRIUMPHANT.” Erik through his life's work to Andre. He turned to Christine. He first made swift eye contact with Meg and continued his way down the steps. His costume mimicked Megs in a way. His was a full riding suit made in the same red-scarlet fabric. A slightly darker, long red velvet cape hung from him bearing the words “Don’t touch me! I am Red Death stalking abroad!” Tall black riding boots and sword at his hip made the imagine even more complete. A mask like a skull framed his face, replacing the normal one he wore.

“Don’t pay attention to him. He doesn’t mean it, don’t listen. Pay attention to my voice.” Meg spoke into Christine's ear. The look on Erik’s face scared her. She knew he was angry, and would do anything for his revenge. Meg saw a man looking way to calm in her eye sight. She saw him shoot daggers at Erik and a curious eye to Christine. Meg held onto Christine to try to bring her back out of the trance she was in. 

Erik looked into Meg's Eyes just a few steps above. She shook her head slightly to tell him no. The movement was so small that the man was the only one to notice this small transaction. Erik looked to Christine.

“You will sing for me!” He fled up the stairs and disappeared, another one of his magic tricks. Meg tried to run after him without thinking, her foot was on the next step as Christine collapsed. She caught in her arms just in time and fell on the steps. People were screaming and scrambling. Erik reappeared behind them and disappeared once more, Le Vicomte tried to run after him. 

“Raoul, it's useless.” Meg yelled over the crowd to Raoul as she tried to bring Christine back from her unconscious state. She held her friend in her arms and kept her safe as people ran from the opera. Raoul kissed Christine's cheek and ran after Madame Giry, who wanted nothing to do with what occurred. He begged to understand this Phantom more. Meg looked around for anyone to help her. 

The steps cleared quickly and Philippe ran to pick up Christine, he held his brothers love like a child. Sorelli hugged Meg and said good bye. They took her to take her to Mama and get a doctor. Soon everyone was either outside, or back to their rooms, leaving Meg and a few workers in the foyer. She looked around at the mess he caused. She was angry at him, she knew he did things in anger, but this was all too much. The man watched from the curl of the stairs and as she moved to go to her room.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat explicit sexual content in this chapter, it is finished in the next. I do not suggest skipping the whole chapter because it would make the next chapter a little confusing, I'd suggest skipping when you become uncomfortable! If you don't mind keep reading as normal. Either way, happy reading!

Meg opened her door to find him sitting on her bed. The daggers in her eyes he didn’t expect. She took some angry steps toward him ready to yell but she remembered she couldn’t. She threw up her hand to stop him from speaking. She didn’t want to hear it. Meg slowly tied the ribbon from her arm and silently laid it on her dressing table. She took the pins from her hat and threw it on the fainting couch. He watched her put her head in her hands and sob in her frustration.

“I have something to show you.” She turned quickly to him.

“Do you now?” Her tone was cold. “How could you Erik? I never... I never expected you to do that.” Erik came to terms with all the chaos he made. All for dramatics, he made things into an opera so easily. She took off her makeup with her cold cream in silence. He watched her lift her leg to try to take her shoes off. She grew so frustrated with him that she couldn't do more than three buttons. He knelt in front of her to help her.

“Will you ever forgive me? I realize now the full effect of my actions. I did it without thinking of the true consequences.” She went to scold him. “I know that is no excuse. I have done many, many wrongs in my life. This is one of them.” He pulled off her shoes and kissed her knee. “I live in agony when you are angry with me. May I make it up to you.”   
“Yes, but you will wait.” She undid her hair from its pins and began to brush the bottom of her hair. He stood up in his own frustration, he waited long enough and picked her up bridal style. “What are you-?” Erik shushed her.  
“I have something to show you.” He took her into the bowels of the opera to his home. As they walked down the hall into the drawing room Meg stopped him. 

“Put me down.” He did so. She looked at him and took in his form. Meg reached up and took off the gruesome skull mask. “Why do you make it so hard to be angry with you? She is my sister, I am worried for her health, yet my mind clouds with you. I am here with you. I love you. Do you see why the scene you made pains me. The attention you still give her, is killing her. It pains me. That you hurt her while I am here with you. Behind her back.” She cried and pleaded with him to understand.

“I understand.” He held her to his chest as she cried. Meg pulled him down and kissed him. It was an odd switch of emotion but she looked for him whenever she was in need. It wasn’t the healthiest thing she could do, but she didn’t particularly care at this point in time. They backed up to the love-seat and she poured all of her frustration into her kiss.

Somewhere along the way Meg's legs ended up around his waist and he carried her down the hall of rooms. Opening the door he walked her deeper into the room she slept in weeks ago. She didn’t notice every detail but he kissed her neck as she saw that all of the previous furniture was missing and the room was redone in pinks and gold instead of blues and silvers. The room left her mind as he sat her on the tall bed frame, the area of the room that held the large four poster bed was a step above everything else.

Erik actively unbuttoned the justaucorps, his coat followed the garment to the floor. As did his boots. His hands caressed her body as she untied her jabot and his cravat. Soon he was shirtless and she lost the dotted pants. He reached around as he kissed her to help with the corset laces. She undid the busk and threw it and the short chemise on the floor.

He pushed her back and climbed over the frame. This time, Erik actually took advantage of the liberty he had with her body. He took it slow as he kissed his way down her body. She kept her hands on him as his mouth grew further away from hers. Eriks fingers already made their way to her center and eventually he replaced his fingers with his mouth. The new sensations made Meg grab onto his black, curly hair. In an attempt to quiet herself her covered her mouth with one of her hands. He laughed in that way that made her shiver.

“I want to hear you, sweets. You have been silent for far too long, my dear.” She no longer had to conceal her passions deep below the opera house. He took the hand from her mouth and held it in his own. Meg felt weird being vocal, but the more he continued it was hard not to be. She writhed by his manipulations and her hips movements were stiff.

“Erik.” She whined as she turned her face to the silky bed cover. Meg clamored for him to look her in eyes and kiss her. “Please.” 

“What?” He lingered over her lips, Erik was in a particularly wicked mood. Too much energy lingered in him from the party. Meg found him intoxicating, she wanted him, all of him, but her words wouldn’t form. She pulled him down to kiss her.

He pushed her up more onto the large pile of pillow and finally did as she wanted. Meg was desperate, and she didn't really care. Her mood, caused by the pleasurable man in question, was virtually gone. She smiled on his lips and moved to kiss his neck. As he entered her, her actions echoed the first time. She slowly laid her head back, and pushed slightly on the pillow with her head. Her back arched as she raised her arms above her head.

She trailed her hands down her own body and trailed her hands up his and down his arms. She held onto him and kissed his chest. Erik shifted their position just enough to move one of his hands to manipulate her center to hurry her along. Each noise she made, each hitch and gasp, each breath and moan were the most beautiful sounds Erik, even though he was a musical genius, had ever heard. 

Meg cried out finally and he followed soon after. She held onto him like he’d disappear from her. Erik never did, but she was oh so afraid he would. They were so loving, just touching and holding each other deep into the night. Erik helped her under the covers and after some time of silence he was asleep, she followed suit without hesitation.


	35. Chapter 35

Meg woke a few hours later lying on his chest, she pushed herself up and finally scanned the low lit room. It was grander than it once was, which seemed impossible if you saw the previous decor. The large room mimicked the drawing room with the mahogany wood runner, the wallpaper was different with a pretty light pink Meg adorned with painted baroque details. Another set of slightly mahogany double doors opened the room. To the right, a fireplace with its own set of deep red loveseats like the ones in the drawing room.

A few steps away was the step to the large bed with matching nightstands made of mahogany and gold gilded details. Both with tall matching kerosene lamps and flowers. There were no windows, but drapes, some a pretty, very detailed cream lace. Some a green velvet. They hung from the ceiling on the wall behind the bed in multiple panels, sweeping up and down in different places to make it seem carefree. Two panels of green ones hung behind a large circle mirror over the fireplace.

To the left side of the room from the doors, the wall was flat until the wall turned at an angle for a door at the step. After the step, on the same level as the bed, the wall made three point nook in the wall. In the nook was a grand dressing table that matched the nightstands.. The top and pink marble. The little stool matched the loveseats. The room was filled with jewel tones, pink, and gold. A strict parallel to the silver and blues that once covered the large space.

 

The level on the step had a big rug from wall to the nook. The bed they laid on was big, much bigger than she had seen before. Four posters held up a roof with moulding. Red velvet hung from the inside of the roof and hung down around each poster. Piles of soft pink, red, and dark pillows with many working patterns kept them comfortable. Many of the decorative ones made it on the floor during the night. 

Glamorous indeed, he spoiled her. She went to the room on the right side by the fireplace she remembered was the bathroom. The same runner ran around the last few feet of the room, above the same pink as the rest of the room. It was fitted with all the appliances of a very rich man for the time. Common middle class families rarely had these tubs and showers fitted into their homes. He spoke to her when she closed the door on her way out.

“Do you like the room?” 

“Is this my surprise?” 

“Yes. Stop!” She stopped in her tracks and he made her close her eyes and put on the red pants before disappearing into the room on the left.

Coming back from what she assumed was a closet he told her to hold up her arms and he put on a fancy, thin, and soft nightgown then walked behind her and put something luxurious on her arms and over her shoulders like a dressing gown. “Keep them closed.” She giggled at him as he buttoned the front. It was heavy but felt so lovely. He held her hands and walked her to where she could see herself in the mirror above the mantle place and told her to open her eyes.

She now wore an emerald velvet wrapper dress, slightly grander than a dressing gown, but not suitable for going out. It was more for meals with husbands and children. Meg couldn't help but pose for him, she giggled as he swept her up into his arms. She held him off from kissing her.

“So what are you doing? First you make me furious, then you shower me pretty things. What do you expect?” 

“Is a man not allowed to shower his bride?” He looked at her a little odd. “My bride.” He kissed her in a way that made her head spin. Erik let her go and went back into the closet. When he returned he kneeled in front of her like any theatrical man would propose.

“Forgive me for not doing this in the proper manner the first time. Will you marry me?” He held her hand and she smiled lovingly to him. She echoed her words from the first time.

“Forever and always, my love.” He put a ring she didn’t even look at onto her finger and she knelt down to kiss him. 

Meg soon found herself on the carpet one leg propped up and Erik on top of her. In his kisses that trailed down her neck. She turned her head toward the door with heavy eyes, he kept himself busy with kissing her decolletage and his hands openly roamed over her body up to her breast. In what felt like slow motion the door opened, before she could see who it was she turned away with a yelp. Erik looked to the door to find his ‘friend’ with a purely shocked look on his face. 

“Forgive me.” She barely heard the man's voice or him closing the door. Erik left her quickly to follow him out with rage. She flinched as the door slammed. Meg laid half on her side, her arms propped her up. Her fingers clutched the carpet as she came down from the panic of the thought of her mother opening the door. Meg knew her mother had been in his home before, she had the capacity to do so. 

 

Meg heard the yells of her lover in a language she knew wasn’t French, nothing from the other man she only saw a glimpse of. She stood and fixed her hair with her hands and smoothed the dress. Eriks yells were angry, if she didn’t go out there who knows what he'd do to the poor man. After calming herself she opened the door only to shrink back when she closed it at the sound of something being thrown.

She made no qualms with the lack of dress, she was a dancer, and he had already seen her in an intimate state. Softly walking down the hall to see the man she recognized from the steps of the opera just hours ago sitting on the chair opposite the loveseat. Meg walked down the little steps and to the loveseat in question and put her hands on the back. Erik was gone. She gave the very familiar man a smile.

Just as the man she couldn't yet place was about to speak another door slammed. She turned around to face Erik. He was now fully clothed and the punjab lasso was in his hands. He tried to walk right past her but she grabbed the lasso right out of his hand. Now he would regret telling her how to tie one because she undid the rope as she spoke to him.

“Do you care to introduce us?” She looked at her hands messing with the rope. Meg then looked up into his seething eyes. “Dear.” She added like the chit he knew she could be. The well dressed man watched with wonder. In the ghosts past the little blonde would be in the lasso. Erik rolled his eyes, threw his tall body onto the throne with great annoyance, and ignored his bride.

“Are you two friends?” Meg was trying to make sense of the situation. 

“No!”

“Yes.” The two men said at the same time. She walked around the loveseat and stopped when she realized just why she knew him. Meg turned to the man with a ballet rats delight. 

“You're the man who sits in box seven.” The Daroga nodded his head with a bit of confusion. “You are almost as much of a star as the opera ghost to us girls in the corps de ballet.” She quickly turned back into a ballet rat ready to run to La Sorelli. Erik laughed at the thought of Meg running to Little Jammes after giving a note to Monsieur Reyes screaming that ‘The Persian is here!’ Meg looked at Erik laughing maniacally.

“Ah yes! You girls dance for my dear Daroga!” She shrunk a little at the awkwardness of the situation. He could be such a brute. The man raised his thick brow at the comment. “Little Meg and her friends with no one to dance for pick a patron and secretly dance for him.” Meg turned her head from the wall to him and her expression hardened at the way he spoke of her and her friends. She felt the early signs of tears, Erik never spoke of her that way. 

“That is flattering. I will remember that next time.” The still nameless man tried to ease the tension with nicity. He looked back and forth at the eyes of his friend and the blonde. The couple held each other's eyes, daring the other to speak. Meg stood up quickly, stopping before she walked away to gauge Erik’s reaction. The other man stood as any Victorian gentleman. Without another word she turned away to go back to the Pink room.

Closing the door she leaned back and laid her head back on the door. Two quick tears left her eyes. Meg held her hands on her face for a bit, then made for the bed. After a while of lying in silence she assumed they were talking, or sitting in silence. Who was that man? How did he know Erik? Clearly he was close enough to him to just come into his home.

Meg finally got to inspect the ring. She figured Erik enjoyed her Green for it was a circle cut emerald. Rose colored gold, a metal she knew was popular for the time, made a simple band and an edge like lace surrounded the stone. She laid on her back sprawled on the bed and held her hand over her face. The pretty piece glittered with the kerosene lamp behind her.

After some time, the door opened without her knowledge. He watched her stare at her hand until she turned toward the pillows and hug one of them. Erik walked to her, she still didn't notice him even though he wasn’t trying to be quiet. Little streams of tears fell again. She flinched and made a little gasp when she felt the weight of his knee on the bed.

He touched her waist and she wanted to turn to him and embrace him for comfort as she usually did. Keeping her ground she kept herself from doing exactly as her body longed to do. She turned to her back and looked up at his masked face. A slightly hurtful sight to her now that they were alone. She reached up and tapped its surface for him to take off. He set it on the closest nightstand, and looked back at her face she had the same stoic look and hurt in her eyes. 

“I know you to be villainous, but to be wicked to me now is frightening.” He looked down at her face.

“Forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you for a lot. To speak like that to me in front of a stranger.”

“He’s not a stranger.”

“He is to me.” Erik leant down to kiss her cheek.

“I know now.” He switched to the other cheek. “I will be better next time. I am not a fan to treating you like an enemy because another made me angry.” Erik wrapped his arms even more around her waist and made to kiss her lips. “A tyrant Erik is.” She let his charms overpower her for a few kisses. “Disagreeable man I am.” Meg snapped out of his charms when she felt his hair on her fingers. She turned her face from him 

“You can’t do this to me every time I’m angry with you.” He held her tighter.

“La Marguerite how do you suppose I keep myself from kissing you?” Erik kissed her jaw. “Something I want to do.” He moved and kissed her under her ear. “Often.” 

“I’m La Marguerite to you now? Not Little Meg?” 

“Meg. Little Meg. Little Giry. Marguerite. My love. La Marguerite. You are everything to me, Marguerite Giry. I hate to see you so.” 

“Don’t make me so.” He stood up and held out his arms to her.

“Would you like to see the other things I had made for you dear.” Meg gave in and he led her to the closest he got the wrapper from. It was different from the rest of the house. Light pink paint with gold gilding on the moulding of the cabinets and walls. Little details in a dark green paint covered the doors of the cabinets. 

He opened the doors of cabinets to show mostly wrapper and dressing gowns. Then some day dress in multiple sections and the most beautiful evening gowns. She felt the fine fabric of dresses, shirtwaists, skirts, capes, and stoles. Everything a fine lady of the day needed. Jewelry sat on a velvet lined tray and hats hung on little head forms like a shop around a full body mirror. Everything was just wonderful. 

“Everythings beautiful. Really, thank you.”

“All this and more. For you, my bride.” She giggled and his bright, boyish smile and happy attitude. Meg stopped his kisses and held him away from her.

“I don’t need these things to be your bride. Just your love… and the kindness I know you can give me. That’s all.” She assured him with all her heart. Without another word he kissed her again in a way that made her head spin.

“You have my love.”

“Just as you have mine.” She laid her head on his chest. After just holding each other Erik began to hum. The sound made Meg too happy to speak. He hummed a popular waltz Meg couldn’t remember the name of. Erik danced her right out of the closet with merriment. 

“I just remembered. That man, Dear Daroga you called him. Is that his name, Daroga? What did he want?” 

“Daroga is his title, chief of police in Persia. That is all I ever call him, a pet name. He said he came to ‘Check on my well being.’ 

“That’s nice of him. Why did he leave?”

“Because I wanted to be alone with you.” 

“You don’t have to make people leave on my account. I’m here all day, unless you want me to go that is.” 

“Never.” He said into her neck again and again. “Something to eat?”

“I’d like that.”


	36. Chapter 36 - November 2, 1880 - The Reign of Don Juan

Meg finally returned to the surface two days after the masquerade. The first day the whole opera was closed to recover. Now since Coppelia and Cosi Fan Tutte closed just days before the party. New shows would be in rehearsal soon. This morning her mother asked her to lead a class for little dancers, the ones who haven't started dancing on pointe yet, and had very little stage time. The older girls would start class later.

As Meg had the girls move to the barres and had the go one by one in the center and work on turns. Toward the end of the line one of the younger girls grew stuck and would lose her balance every time. Meg stopped the little girl and had her stand on one leg and extend her leg behind her. She held up her hand and told the girl to reach her leg to touch her hand.

As they worked her mother, the man she now knew as Daroga, and the managers came in the door. Just then the girl began to fall. Catching the little girl's chest with one arm and her leg with the other she helped the girl back into position.

“Up straight, Brianne.” Meg said softly. She found the problem soon. The group looked at the two without interrupting. Meg patted the girl's torso. “Tighten.” She watched in the mirror as Brianne struggled less. “Good.” Keeping the girls eye in the mirror she made her stand straight. “Try again, keeping…” Meg patted her own torso. “Here tight.” She stepped away and Brianne did it much better than any attempt before. “Good job, dear.”

Meg was the milk and honey teacher, the little girls loved her for her soft tone, young wisdom, and beauty. As they grew up they’d look to Madame Giry for strict technique. The Giry’s were natural teachers. A few more girls worked on their turns and Meg brought them to the center to finish class.

“You are dismissed, little dancers.” 

“Thank you, Little Giry.” They bowed to her and she smiled warmly at the little girls leaving to dine at the operas hall or leave with a governess if they came from fine homes. The classes for the little ones were much fuller than the elder classes. Before walking out the door the little dancers bowed to Madame Giry. Meg looked to her mother and watched as she walked to her.

“Hello, Maman.” Meg kissed her mother's cheek. The Daroga was a little stunned to find that Madame Giry, a confident to Erik, was the mother of his lover. The managers walked him up to the pair and introduced him to their little star. 

“La Marguerite!”

“La Prima Belle!” They spoke to her the same as La Carlotta. She had to admit, it was fun. Each kissed one of her hands at the same time, she couldn’t help but giggle. 

“This is our newest Prima Ballerina and solo singer at the Opera Populaire. Meg Giry, Daughter of our Ballet Mistress Madame Giry-”

“Made so by her own talent of course.” Madame Giry cut in.

“Yes. Well. Meg Giry this is Monsieur Daroga. He refuses to go by his name here at the opera. He has come to renew his patronage. We insisted on a tour, to meet our finest.” 

He kissed the hand Andre held out to him. Older dancers from those just starting on pointe to Megs age filled the room. Madame Giry spoke with the accompanist. The managers fawned over the eldest girls in the room trying to impress them. In their solitude Meg turned from her mother so she wouldn’t see and came closer to the Daroga.

“I trust that you have not mentioned my relation to Erik, to my mother.” Meg shifted uncomfortably at his knowing smile. “It’s not that I don't want her to know.” She added quickly. “I just don’t know how to tell her, or how she’ll react. Now is not the time.”

“You have my secrecy.” Meg sent that dazzling smile back to him like she did before.

“Thank you.” 

“Mademoiselle Giry.-”

“Meg! Please.” She cut in.

“Meg.” He added. “Do you love him?” She saw the look of a worried friend she often wore for Christine. Meg smiled warmly at the thought of him.

“Very much!” She spoke softly and with so much love. “My dear Daroga.” She echoed Eriks words from before with a laugh.

“I was afraid he would make you despise me.” 

“I know nothing about your relationship, but I can tell he’s the hostile one.” Before he could speak Madame Giry smacked her cane sending Meg into first position on spot. “Excuse me.” She flittered to her spot just in front of the piano.

The managers led him to sit behind by the piano. It was not too uncommon for prospective patrons to sit in on rehearsal. Toward the end of class Madame Giry asked Meg to help her with partner work, something La Sorelli used to do. As each girl paired up Meg felt the little twinge of panic she used to feel, the loneliness she felt when Christine left the corps. She was happy she didn’t have to actually worry about a partner in front of company.

Meg made her way around the duos as her mother called out what to do. She watched for anything she could fix. Meg did like the new, official prestige she now had. After the pianist finished the first piece he pulled from his repertoire the ballet from Il Muto. She walked by Little Jammes and Brigette were on the end of the middle row just by the piano.

“Where are your trousers, Meg?” Cecile called to Meg just loud enough for her, and incidentally the Daroga, to hear. He watched as Meg whispered something in the girl's ear to make her blush. She laughed at the younger girls shock, while Cecile gasped.

“Little Meg!” She kept laughing until Jammes swatted her bum over her skirts. The managers laughed at the little display of good fun.

Meg walked away smiling. Soon after they moved the barres from the middle of the room to the walls. To work on keeping in time each set of partners had to do sets of turns and moves. Madame Giry set on keeping Meg at the top of the class, after each set had gone she decided to show Meg off a bit and gave her much harder moves to do on her own. 

Meg twirled around the room and leapt many times. When Meg came to center Madame Giry called for her to settle into a deep bow like a swan. She hadn’t had time to wonder why her mother made her do all that. Meg concealed her heavy breathing as much as possible. Ballet was the art of making difficult things seem easy.

Standing up to her full height, her mother made to finish class. The girls came to stand around her, Jammes and Brigette clasped her shoulders to tell her how well she did. Meg felt odd breathing so hard with her rested classmates around her, but she was Prima, this was a part of her status, hard work. 

“I have some slightly sad news for you.” She kept her girls hanging. “The fall season ballet is to be cancelled.” Jammes tugged on Meg to ask her about it, she turned her head to her friend with a look to kill. Her debut was pushed back, and the ballet corps was yet again swept under the rug for an opera. Mouthing ‘I don't know.’ to Jammes she looked back at her mother. “You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Madame Giry.” They all bowed and dispersed to change their shoes and take their bags.

Madame Giry told Meg they must talk with the managers. As the managers spoke with the Daroga and some dancer jovially, Cecile came with her bad attitude to Meg. 

“They cut it for the Phantoms opera.” This made Meg stop in her tracks and the Darogas ears perk up. Meg hadn’t even thought of his opera. The opera would be in full swing to please the figment who caused so much terror. “What did he call it?” 

“Don Juan Triumphant!” Brigette piped up. 

“What do you think it’s like?” Meg asked genuinely curious, she hadn’t heard anything from it officially. If she did, she didn't know it. 

“Haunting. Like him.” Brigette said again. She loved to talk about the opera ghost.

“Archaic from lack of humanity.” Jammes said with passion and anger at a ballet being cut. “What do you think, Meg.” 

“I have no idea.” She looked as frightened as she sounded. The hair on her neck stood on end. Her tone was odd to the Daroga who pretend to listen to the conversation in front of him. He couldn't see her face but she really seemed to be clueless. He expected her to know everything.

“Lunch?” Jammes asked.

“No I must stay with Mother.” 

“Goodbye, Meg.” They both said as the hugged her. Meg walked to the little group as the rest of the dancers left. 

“La Marguerite!” Andre ushered her to it in one of the chairs they just occupied. “We must call upon your singing now.” She raised an eyebrow, Meg had the face that when she did that, she seemed like a southern belle who could make any man her beau. She had the face that at times could make any man tell what they are hiding.

“My singing?” 

“Yes! You proved yourself as Serafimo.”

“Stephano.” Firmin cut in.

“Dora-Bella!” Andre added with great emotion. “Here.” They handed her the cast list from the original score. She found her name third on the list. 

“DON JUAN- Ubaldo Piangi  
AMINTA- Christine Daae (Non-negotiable)  
LUCÍA- La Marguerite (Non-negotiable).” Meg had no problems with a singing role, she thought they knew that. The managers looked nervous.

“That's fine.” She tried to hand the score back, but Andre stopped her.

“Good Mademoiselle, we have to call upon your professionalism and ask you to understudy Aminta.” Meg looked again to reassure her mind, she saw it was Christine's role.

“Alright, I don’t suspect I’ll be needed though.” Meg said with ease.

“Were afraid you might be.” Firmin added with great annoyance. This scared Meg, what did he mean by that.

“Of-f course she will. Don’t be silly, she is very good at her job and is always here.” Meg seemed even more uneasy than the rest of them. Why wouldn't Christine do it?

“Things change. Under such a crushing, and delicate, situation I’m afraid even the most reliable of people crack under pressure.” Andre tried to soften the blow like they would with Carlotta. Meg grew defensive for her sister, and stood quickly as if she would storm out.

“Christine will do it. Don’t worry, please. Your speculations will cause trouble with the composer, and we know his temper all too well.” Meg paused and scanned the eyes of her mother and the Daroga. “I will learn Aminta, for you. Have faith in Christine, please. She will need it.” 

“Brava Belle! You are right. Thank you Mademoiselle. Now, we must continue the tour, join us?” Andre and Firmin were exaggerated as always as they led The Daroga out to show another section of the opera.


	37. Chapter 37

Meg was left with a sense of dread. Her and her mother followed them until they settled in the manager's office. They sat at the table between the two desks and chatted until La Carlotta bustled into the room in all her diva-fashion. Meg was still afraid of Carlotta, and loathed her for the way she treated Christine. Meg stood and let her take the chair she was in, when Meg wanted to play nice, she could. Andre handed the Carlotta and Piangi a cast list and score.

“This! Is a disgrace!” Piangi was the first to show his displeasure of Don Juan. He loved Carlotta with all his heart, and for her to be so low on a cast list was an open snub for the diva. 

“Have you seen the size of my part?” Carlotta squawked.

“It was not our decision. La Carlotta we wish for you to be our star, but we work under… complicated circumstances.” 

“Bella Diva! Even in your role you will shine brighter than anyone on stage.” Andre added after Firmin. 

“The things I do for my art.” The Daroga watching in pleasure at the diva.  
“Third. To a dancer no less.” Meg only raised her head and gave the redhead a look to kill. “And to Christine Daae! She-” Carlotta was cut off by Raoul opening the door. Christine came in first looking as sickly as ever. Daroga never saw a close look of the girl, but she clearly had an ethereal quality. He understood a fraction of Erik's mind, and why the deformed man would be enamoured by her. 

“AH! Heres our little flower.” Meg ran up to her friend who held onto her for her life. 

“Mademoiselle Daae, You’ve been given the largest role in this Don Juan.” Firmin almost spat at the girl. A chair away from the table was placed by Andre for the frail Christine. Meg went to lean on the desk just behind Christine, but the brunette clung onto Meg's arm. The blonde decided to sit on the the arm of the chair. She held Christine's hand on her skirts.

“Christine Daae? She doesn’t have the voice!” Carlotta mocked from her spot just a few feet away.

“How dare you?” Meg yelled at the woman with no fear.

“You evil woman!” Christine yelled just moments after Meg started her question.

“Little Giry hold your tongue to me. You may have Prima in front of your name but I will always be above you in talent.” Christine stood up to defend her friend but Meg held her arm. “And for you Christine Daae, this is all you're doing. You're the one behind this!” Meg made it much further than Christine as she made to get in the older woman's face. Christine held Meg by the arm as much as she could.

“No!”

“Meg Giry!” Both Christine and her mother yelled as Piangi held Carlotta still just the same as they were months ago before during a rehearsal for Romeo et Juliette. Meg stared at her with wild eyes, and Carlotta with smug ones to match her demeanor. After long moments of silence Meg spoke.

“You are always so lucky. All talk and no consciences.” Carlotta shrunk back a little. Meg settled back and walked Christine back to her chair. Andre spoke to ease the high tension.

“Madame it is at the composers orders.”

“I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want any part of this plot.” Christine cried out from her handkerchief. 

“Miss Daae surely?”

“But why not?” 

“Its your desicion.” Meg and Raoul told Christine at the same time. 

“But why not?” Andre added again. 

 

“She's backing out!” Carlotta cheered.

“You have a duty!” Firmin pleaded with Christine. Without her the opera would lose money.

“I cannot sing it, duty or not.” Christine held up her chin.

“Christine, You don't have to. They can't make you.” Raoul knelt in front of Christine.

 

“Please, monsieur- another note!” A collective groan filled the air. ‘Fondest greetings to you all! A few instructions just before rehearsal starts: Carlotta must be taught to act, Not her normal trick of strutting 'round the stage. Our Don Juan must learn to enunciate his words, correctly. My managers must learn. That their place is in an office, not the arts.” Everyone moved their stare to each person who was being spoke of.

“And La Marguerite, is to choreograph her own dances, however she sees fit…” Madame Giry paused. “As for Miss Christine Daae… No doubt she'll do her best— It's true her voice is good. She knows. I as her teacher, am owed much. I am owed your voice. My voice… Your obedient friend… and Angel" A tear left both Christine and Meg’s eyes as Madame Giry closed the letter. 

“We have all been blind!” Raoul leap up and looked at the manager's. “And yet the answer is staring us in the face! This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend.” The Daroga watched Meg's face look up in shock. Andre and Firmin begged him to continue. 

“We shall play his game. Perform his work, but remember we hold the ace!” He turned to Christine quickly like a bolt. Everyone in the room understood, Christine now held onto both Giry’s and begged them to stop the men. “For, if Miss Daaé sings, he is certain to attend.”

“We make certain the doors are barred!” Andre added.

“We make certain our men are there!” Then Firmin

“We make certain they're armed!” Raoul said with passion. “The curtain falls, his reign will end!” The fire from the sailor and protector in him made him seem mad.

“Madness!” Giry yelled through the excitement. Both managers protested. “This is madness! Monsieur, believe me- There is no way of turning the tide!

“You stick to ballet!” Meg prepared herself to defend her mother.

“Help us!” The three men pleaded with the ballet mistress.

“I wish I could!”

“Don't make excuses!”

“Or could it be that you're on his side?” Raoul turned on his once confident. 

“Monsieur, believe me I intend no ill, but Messieurs, be careful- We have seen him kill!” Madame Giry was desperate. Meg once again felt her senses fill with noise like at the masquerade. Everyone but Meg, Christine, and the Daroga spoke. Through the noise Christine screamed.

“If you don't stop I'll go mad! Raoul, I'm frightened” She was so pained. “Don't make me do this. Raoul, it scares me - don't put me through this ordeal by fire he'll take me, I know!” She look past him until her next thought. “we'll be parted for ever, he won't let me go!” She began to look pleadingly into everyone's eyes, many avoided hers. 

“What I once used to dream, I now dread… if he finds me, it won't ever end . . . and he'll always be there, singing songs in my head.” She seemed so deranged, so frightened. “he'll always be there, singing songs in my head.” The two young girls were quite the sight.

“She's mad.” Carlotta's whole attitude changed at Christine's profession of her plight. The diva was moved by the way the ghost tormented the childlike woman. Meg’s tears streamed down her face, she held onto the back on Christine's chair but refused to look away from the wall. The only one to see her face was The Daroga.

“You said yourself he was nothing but a man… Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead!” His words stunned Christine.

“Twisted every way, what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live? Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice? Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice? He kills without a thought, he murders all that's good!” Her musical voice sounded as though she was singing. Christine stood up and leant her torso out and reached out to Carlotta and and Piangi who just turned away. 

“I know I can't refuse… and yet, I wish I could, Oh God!” Raoul caught her as she fell back and helped her to the chair again. “If I agree, what horrors wait for me. In this! the Phantom's opera?” The sorrow on Megs and Christine's face matched the overwhelming dread and despair in their hearts. 

“Christine, don't think that I don't care- but every hope, and every prayer rests on you now.” As the managers, Piangi, Raoul, and even Carlotta crowded around Christine to convince her. She stood up and bolted for the door. 

“I Can’t! I won’t do it!” She opened the door. “I thought you’d understand!” She spoke directly to Raoul.

“So, it is to be war between us! But this time, my clever friend, the disaster will be yours!” Raoul spoke to an imaginary Phantom as he held the note, he then dropped the note and tore after Christine. 

Meg turned with a light head to her mother, she looked as though she could faint. Andre and Firmin ran to the Daroga who had seen the whole thing, and apologized profusely. Madame Giry went to hold her daughter up. Telling her mother she was fine, Meg left the room slowly. She walked all the way until the grand foyer and rested her arms on the curl of the stairs. The same place she watched Red Death descend the steps.


	38. Chapter 38

“Mademoiselle.” She heard the soft but very manly voice of the Daroga. Meg gasped as she looked at him. 

“Oh monsieur, I am so sorry you had to see that. I guess opera houses aren't the most calm of places.” She laughed to ease her own mind. He began to lead her to one of the big marble rooms for entertaining patrons before shows.

“I was one of the highest chief of police for the Shah of Persia, I have seen much over my years, many worse by far, mademoiselle.” Meg gave a faint laugh.

“So that's where you met. Erik I mean.” Meg paused through a few steps as he nodded to her. “I don’t know much about his past. I’m not going to pry, I only want to know as much as he tells me. But I knew he had to have someone, somewhere, besides my mother and I.” 

“You are a friend, right?” She grew nervous quickly, what if he was an enemy.

“I like to think so. You are good for him, I can already tell. He needs someone to show him affection.”

“Thank you. I do hope he’ll soften up to you. You’ve been very kind to me. It’s been very high strung around here, as you very much saw.” She laughed. “That was… Very fitting for an opera house.” She couldn’t help but laugh. Meg left him to make her way down to Erik.

\--------------------  
“Did you hear?” She asked as she set her bag down and walked to the bench he sat on. Megs sorrow came back to her as she made her way to speak to him.

“Oh yes, you held up very well under pressure, my dear. Though I would have let you take on Carlotta.” He let out a hearty laugh.

“Do you not care at all?” He stopped at her words. “Do you not care what you are doing to Christine? Erik! She's terrified of you.” Meg looked faint as she did when she left the office. “It makes me sick, to know that the very man I look at know keeps her up at night.” She stood up and look away from him. “She thinks you’ll never leave. I fear she thinks you’ll kill her, or the Vicomte.” 

“I understand she's your friend, but all I want is her voice, I have left her alone. She has no reason to think I am coming for her, or the little noble.”

“Don’t you see that's the problem! Erik, Christine believed you to be a literal heavenly body sent by her dearly departed father, and you left her.” She sat down on the bench again. “Christine is afraid, now that the lines of angel and human phantom have intertwined. She doesn’t know what you’ll do, you say things like ‘You will sing for me.’ and ‘I as her teacher, am owed much. I am owed your voice. My voice.’ You make it seem like you still own her.”

“Do you-” She paused to calm herself, Meg stood up again quickly. Taking a few steps to get away from him. “Do you still want to own her?” 

“How could you think-” 

“No don’t turn this back on me.” She paused again to repress tears. “Through your actions, the only thing I think is that if she were to return to her angel you’d take her back. Your singing angel.” 

There were times when Meg felt her heart pulling at its own strings. Times she could recall and still feel a hint of what she felt then. The day he kissed her hands and called her a goddess, the day she realized she loved him, the day Christine noticed her bruises, and now. She refused to look at him, she soon felt his hands on her body. First her waist, then her rehearsal skirts, Erik knelt at her feet. Before he did he ripped the mask from his face.

“Meg, I love you. Never! Never think I want her. I would be lost without you. You have given me everything. Love, real love. Affection, your body, your mind. I adore everything you are.” He grabbed at her, Erik laid his head against her torso, his tall height kept him close to her chest. “My love. My love, please. Forgive me. Erik has done so, so much wrong. So much sorrow he’s caused in the world.”

“So much sorrow Erik gives the only person who looks upon his face like nothings gruesome there. The only one to not be weary of the touch I give. Even now I cling at you and you let me, the one who makes you question my loyalties.” Erik looked up to her face. Tears now reached her neck as she looked to the tall, smooth ceiling. “Tell me. Anything. That I could do to prove to you I simply want my life's work to be performed properly. Then after that Christine Daae will mean nothing but a cold memory to me.”

“Let her go.” Meg's voice was cold.

“I have.”

“Does she know that?” 

“Help me. Please, I don’t know how without going to her.” 

“You have to.” She gabbed his hands from where they clutched her waist. “You have to go to her as her angel and tell her you are done. That she has… Learned all she can from you, and you are proud of her, and you… Wish her no harm, only happiness with the rest of her long life.” Meg took his hands and held them in front of her as she stepped away from his body.

“If I was strong I’d leave until you did it. I am not that strong.” He stood with shaking hands, she laid her head on his chest. His trembling hands dared to hold her. Meg wrapper her hands around his neck and they held his pose of many moments. 

“I never want you to leave me, but I will never hold you here.” 

“I know.” Erik made to pick her up after another stretch of silence. She didn’t stop him, he took her to the Pink room and set her down on the bed.

Meg was exhausted but she slowly took of her corset to lay down, as she did he went to grab another short nightgown chemise with ribbons running through the wide neck that opened up to her shoulders. She changed out of the clothes she still wore from rehearsal and laid down under the pretty duvet. Erik made to leave her in peace, he felt that she wouldn’t want him around much until he appeared to Christine. 

“Where are you going?” She said without even moving her head. “Please lie with me.” She didn’t mind asking for affection and comfort from him now. All Meg wanted was that comfort she always sought from him. His touch is what she craved in her darkest moments, whatever it was. A kiss, an embrace, his own body in hers, whatever he would to give her she’d take. 

He complied silently and took off his cravat. As he finally slid in the bed from the other side. She turned over and backed up so he’d hold onto her. Their legs tangled comfortably immediately. Erik wrapped his heavy arm around her waist and she grabbed his hand to bring it with other and held his between her breast. 

They had started a rhythm of breaking away from each other as they slept. Erik would become hot in the night, with or without her, and start kicking. She liked to be separated so it worked well for the both of them. This time he stayed holding onto her, Erik knew he wouldn’t be sleeping. So they laid silently into the evening. Just with each other. Meg fell asleep soon in his comforting arms. Even in her sleep she clutched his hand. Erik was fighting with himself, how could he be so blind to the hurt he caused? Why would she let him touch her? 

He shouldn’t be, but he would be a fool to leave her now.


	39. Chapter 39

Hours later Meg woke to find Erik looking down at her face. She kissed him immediately. Meg was afraid it was the morning, she didn’t want to leave him yet. They cooked a meal and spoke a little lighter than usual. Meg still felt exhausted, the air was still thick with worries. She had him explain every bit of Don Juan to her, the smile on his face reminded her of a little boy.

“Do you have any ideas on costumes or sets?”

“Yes. I have ideas but everything I think is wrong. Something's always wrong.” He created these grand costumes that fit the height of what French Victorians thought past Spaniards would wear. Erik wanted the patrons to love him. 

“Could I? Try to think of something?” Erik felt like a fool. Meg was known in the costumers department as the girl who could un-stick any creative problem. She’d finish designs, sew on beads, she’d even refurbish retired costumes for her own use. The pretty pink dressing gown was one example of her works.

“Please do.” He told her to return to bed as he grabbed a stack of papers and pencils, and colors for details.

“I’m not the best at drawings, it’s always better in my mind.” She propped up her knees and stared at the paper. Meg didn’t know where to start. She remembered the song he title “Past the Point of no Return” It set up Dons betrayal, Amintas fall, and Lucia's plight. The song was so sexual, the scene lies in the private chambers of Don Juan. The bed room hidden away until later for when the banquet wasted away.

She asked him to describe the scene to her again. Meg drew from the drapes all around the Pink Room, the lush feel was perfect to hide the bed for future use. She drew a high modeled ceiling to make the set seem like a big castle. Drawing a long table with two long benches, she drew platters of food. She shaded and made the scene dark. The drapes hanging from temporary beams were a deep red, some more hung like a frame around the scene. 

She imagined many people in romantic stereotypical Spanish dresses. They were idealized. Not necessarily accurate, but it’s what the public would want to see. Stockinged legs and short skirts for the men. Lacey, jewel toned, and full skirts for the women who loved clothes. For Aminta, Christine's character. The perfect dame for a man like Don Juan to conquer. 

 

Aminta was virginal, a little naive songbird in the court. So visually, she’d wear lighter clothes than the rest. Meg’s first thought was a cool-pink dress, short to be fashionable amongst her lot, tall boots, and sleeves to her elbows. Fluffy lace hung from the ends. She, somehow, drew her idea. Through Don Juan’s whole conception Erik couldn’t pick the right anything for any character to wear. The idea was perfect. Everything he ever wanted, but couldn't develop. 

It wasn’t until they were seated the next morning from breakfast when he asked her how he would, in fact, alert Christine of the absence of the grip he used to have on her like a leash. 

“I can ask her to come look at my set and costume designs, in our dressing room.” Meg didn’t enjoy this, conspiring against the one person who was basically her sister. They weren’t very close anymore, but you didn’t have to be to be family. “I would leave if you wanted me to, if she was comfortable of course. I doubt it, but I am fine doing so.” 

“No I want you there.”

“I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You wouldn’t be in the way. You should be there. For both Christine and I.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So the fateful hour of Don Juan's first official sound came into the Opera Populaire. Chairs sat on the stage as every dancer, singer, and creative director waited for the sound of the Opera Ghost. Christine and Meg sat hand in hand and as Meg tried to make soft conversation. Christine did appreciate it greatly. Monsieur Reyes came in with his page as usual with great expectations.

As Meg held a copy of Don Juan Triumphant she saw his scribbled hand. Unlike usual new shows, they started right then on stage. After almost two hours of Piangi’s bumbling, Carlotta’s screeching, and Christine's wounded spirit, Reyes released the amazed artist go until tomorrow. He made them promise to become as acquainted as they could with the music and story.

They were determined to have the show up and running at the beginning of December. Costumes, voices, acting, everything had to be finessed and made into the Phantoms vision, and soon. The sooner they gave him what he wanted, the sooner it was over. Christine stood and held her cloak over her arms and her score in hand.

“Christine?” She turned to her friend immediately. “Could I show you the costume ideas I have.” Meg explained she was charged with the design of the show and she worked to get as much done as possible since she received a note under her door from the composer. Another lie. Another strike on Meg's conscience. 

“Yes.” Christine nodded, obviously distressed. She told Raoul, who was sitting in the audience where she was going. As Meg led Christine to their dressing room, she felt like she was leading Christine into battle. 

“Here.” She opened the portfolio. On top sat the pink Aminta dress. A girl with the image of Christine filled the perfect designs. Many chorus girls filled pretty lace and the pictures were perfect. Christine knelt in front of the fainting couch and fingered through the papers. Meg stood up and looked at the mirror, she watched Christine flip through the papers. 

“They are beautiful Meg.” After Meg said her thank you, a fog came from the mirror. As she watched Christine in the mirror, she watched the her doll eyes grow wide, and her body begin to tremble. Christine knew what came next, the voice. Angel from father? Friend? Teacher? Or Phantom? 

The door seemed to open of its own accord, Meg watched from her dressing table. Erik stood in full white tie dress, he wore the cape she gave him, one of the sides was thrown up over the shoulder to reveal the green underside. He looked so different, tall and truly heaven-like. 

“Angel.” Christine whispered into the air.

“Christine Daae.” His voice was hypnotic, and he knew it. The woman in question finally looked up to him. 

“Why do you come to me now? After all this silence?” She forgot Meg’s presence. Christine never spoke to her angel this way, but now she knew him to be a man, and a deceitful one at that. 

“You have learned everything I could teach you. I will no longer come to you, do not search for me around corners, I am not lurking to catch you. You are free to do as you please.” Christine nodded her head because she couldn’t find the proper words. “But you must promise me this. Never stop singing, never stop learning. I may not teach you, but you can always learn from experience, or by another's hand.” 

“Thank you.” Christine didn’t completely believe her once-angel, but she the words did sound nice to her. 

“And please do me this one favor of singing Don Juan. The role was cultivated for you, no one else could do Aminta justice.” 

“Yes. I will, I promise.” Christine wanted to run to Raoul with a lighter heart. She knew it wouldn’t last long, but she did want to revel.

The Phantom nodded with a slight smile. He glanced at Meg to find her mouthing a thank you to him. After her nodded to her, Christine turned in that direction. She had completely forgotten Meg was there. Both women watched him slip back into the mirror and the passage reseal, the fog dissipated almost immediately. 

Christine scrambled for the designs and put them back in the portfolio. She held the image of the pink dress for a moment and put the drawing on top and shut the folder. Christine turned to Meg, who was watching with compassionate eyes. She held them out to her friend.

“They're perfect Meg! Really. This is right for the story, and the theme fits the sound. The pink dress is perfect.” Meg held the drawings as she searched Christine's face for any sign of a breakdown. “I’m sorry Meg, Raoul is waiting for me.” Meg nodded and hugged Christine who had just stopped trembling. “Thank you for being with me and not running for help, or trying to run him off.” 

“I wouldn’t have unless you told me to do so. Since you didn’t scream or try to get away I knew you needed your time. I wasn’t comfortable leaving you alone though.” Christine quickly fled from the room to return to her fiance. As Meg started to walk toward the mirror to go to him, her mother came in.

“You heard him.” It wasn’t a question, a simple fact. 

“Were you listening?” Meg was stunned by her own tone that was a little harsher than she intended. 

“I was about to knock on the door when I heard him, it was unmistakable.” She watched Meg place the portfolio on the couch. “Don’t look for him in this opera, Meg. He charged you with designs. Do as you see fit, but don’t attract his temper.” Madame Giry only wanted for her daughter to be safe. “Please.” 

“Of course, mother.” She watched her mother's worried face with concern and little humor for what she actually knew of him. “Would you like to see what I have?” Without an answer she opened the folder for her mother.


	40. Chapter 40 - November 10, 1880

Costumes and sets were well underway, everyone in the opera worked long hours to keep up. The show had a fast approaching opening date, and not a word came from the ghost. So everyone assumed he was happy. Every ballet girl looked for a sign to scream, even more so than usual. At any given moment you’d hear a scream, or a yelp of surprise. Every bump in the night was him. Stagehand or not.

Madame Giry came to her daughter as she finished Christine's pink Aminta. She worked very late nights to finish. Christine stood in front of the mirror and forgot her troubles for a short time with Meg and her new costumes. Nothing was like a new costume to Christine, the excitement of a new role always electrified Christine. 

“All done.” Meg said at the last stitch of the hem. “What do you think?”

“Better than the drawing! Thank you for giving me something so beautiful.” Christine didn’t dare tell anyone, but she feared this would be her last show. She didn’t know why, but the sense always covered her. Meg got her into another two under construction costumes, they’d be done soon maybe one or two more fittings. As she got Christine back into her clothes Madame Giry chatted with them. 

“Goodbye, and please get your rest.” Madame Giry said as Christine left the room. Both Giry’s could tell she had many restless nights. Meg began to prepare what she needed for the next costume. She hummed happily through her parts. The songs stuck in her mind every moment he wasn't with him. 

“Meg. This was left for you.” Madame Giry sounded so frightened and ominous as she handed her daughter the black edged note with her name written in a pretty fashion. It was thicker than any other note had been before. Meg opened to find a large amount of money and the two actual paper notes. One was sealed, and had an open one behind it. Meg understood to only open the sealed one in private.   
‘I must call upon your young mind. I request for you, Meg, to purchase a full dressing table set that would suit the taste of a woman your age. One your friend would be happy with. Brushes, hooks, creams, pots, anything. You must use all of the money provided before leaving the store. No exceptions. Whatever you see fit. Leave the packages in Lodge five.’ Meg rolled her eyes as she remembered a conversation she had the night before as she raked her hands through the tips of her knotted hair.

Erik had told her he didn’t fill her dressing table in the Pink room because he wanted to give her something she could control. Of course all she had to do was tell him an aspect of the room she didn’t like and he’d change it at the drop of a hat. He sent her on a mission under the guise of something for Christine so her mother wouldn’t grow suspicious. 

No one else knew of his release on Christine yet so it made perfect sense to everyone but the two couples, Raoul of course knew by now. Meg explained the letter to her mother and made to leave the opera on a secret mission. She dressed in full outer wear. As she left her mother's worried and irritated eyes, Meg opened the sealed note inside. 

“As I said before, don't come home until you spend it all. Whatever you like. - E” The ‘E’ was the neatest letter on the page. The fluid hand made her smile. She entered the large shop with all the pretty things for a woman's ensemble and person. Meg upon being approached by an overly happy employee, she decided to be a little wicked with her adventure. After the woman asked her how she could help, Meg spoke like a noble, and pampered lady.

“I’m on a mission. I’ve been given a sum of money, and told not to leave until it is all gone. Do you think you could help me with that?” The young woman widened her smiled and shuffled Meg towards so counters.

“Anywhere you’d like to start first?” The young woman was delighted at the prospect. 

“In need a dressing table sets. Manicure kits, jars, candlesticks, button hooks, everything. A full set.” 

After Meg picked a lovely gold gilt set with everything a woman needs on her vanity. All packed up into a pretty traveling case. She barely made a dent into the money, she couldn't help but shake her head at him. So Meg made her way around buying creams, a new rouge for the stage, and one for her table downstairs, perfumes and gloves, chokers, and even some fans made their way into her tab.

She left with a carriage and arrived to the opera wondering how she'll get them all the way to Lodge five. Meg enlisted a page for the managers to help her put them in the hall, and told him to keep it a secret. The ghost made her run an errand. She transferred them to the boxe and saw another note on the ledge. 

He simply wrote for her to meet him at his home. She made her way to her dressing room and changed to a spare rehearsal dress. As she made her way down Erik brought her stuff down. How he did it in one trip she’ll never know. As she laid in the bed she heard him call to her to open the door. He sat the boxes down on the bed.

“This doesn’t feel like all the money I gave you.”

“How would you know?” He looked to her and then the boxes a few time with a very distressed look.

“You're right. I really do not know.” She kissed him and went to work on setting up her table. He watched unwrap things and speak of her experience. 

At this time Erik realized, once again, how lucky he was. He’s come so far, from the person he used to be thirty, twenty, ten years ago. Even just last year. Erik though of all the women he’s put on different pedestals. His mother, a Romani woman who welcomed him to the traveling fair, Madame Giry, Christine Daae, and now the one who sits on a pedestal, this time the pedestal sat right beside him. 

He promised her mother she’d be an empress, he didn’t live up to that promise. Though if Meg knew of this deal, she’d say she is one. In their own little world, she was pampered and loved. All Meg ever wanted. It was hard to put up with his actions at time, but she loved him so she could look past the things some would send him to die for. As he stared at her from the bed with a look of a school boy, she caught his face in the mirror.

“I love you.” She turned around to him. “I really, truly do. You know that don’t you?” He simply smiled.

“Do you now?” Meg nodded her head and walked to him. When she reached the bed he quickly grabbed her and tackled her on the bed. She giggled as he placed a kiss on her jaw. “Then what do I feel for you?” 

“Is it love? No. That's not enough.” She pulled her legs up to wrap them around him. Such liberties were not theirs months ago, so Meg would take them as she pleased. Of course he never stopped her. Erik tried to kiss her but she stopped him.

“What do you feel for me?”

“Complete and pure adoration.” He lifted her chest from the bed and kissed her in a way that put the greatest opera loves to shame.


	41. Chapter 41 - November 23, 1880

Just a week before the grand premiere of Don Juan, the whole opera, and everyone with tickets, were excited for the Phantoms opera. Meg sat at her dressing table deep below the opera as she brushed through the ends of her hair, Erik started talking about his discontent with the managers. He spoke calmly at first, but that changed quickly. 

“They make a mockery of my work.” He paced around the room. “If either of them had a talent for the arts in their body, my opera would be the the most elegantly promoted opera yet.”

“Well they are businessman, and they good at it.” She paused. “They sold out the theater in less than an hour. You're a star, and they know it.” 

“Thank you, my dear, but I still want them gone.” At this a little idea popped into her head. She started giggling at the thought. “What?!” He was very short.

“Do you really get Twenty thousand Francs a month?” Erik looked at her with great confusion. “Well…After all these years you must have raised quite a bit of funds.” He only walked towards her.

“Yes, and?”

“What if?” She paused again.

“Yes?” She couldn’t help but wait, she didn’t want to sound foolish.

“What if you bought the opera?” Eriks face went blank for a few moments then he broke into a great big smile. He picked her up by her arms and kissed her quickly.

“You brilliant woman!” He let go of her and she watched him start pacing again. Erik was doing the math in his head, he knew exactly how much they paid for it. So with his skills of persuasion he could get have them sign over ownership easily. 

“Will you help me?” He came at her and held her arms again.

“Of course.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So the next morning Meg Giry prepared to speak with the managers. She knew her mother would most likely be with them. They always had meetings in the morning. Meg prepared her story for them. She would say she was stopped on her way to class and told to take this note to the managers.

Andre let her in and both kissed her hand to keep her happy like they would Carlotta. Neither saw the note she was holding behind her back. She kissed her mother's cheek as they stood in front of their chairs waiting for her to take a seat. 

“I was stopped.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And told to give you this.” Meg held the black edged envelope to Andre, the closer one.  
“Mademoiselle are you alright?” They feared he scared her, or harmed her in their passing. 

“Yes, quite.” Meg tried her best to be unreadable. Neither manager wanted to open or read the note. After looking at each other and shaking their head they turned to Meg's mother who stared at her daughter for a sign of trouble.

“Madame.” She took the note with an annoyed sigh, broke the seal, and began reading.

‘I request a meeting. Midnight. All those present in the room at the time of reading, must return their presence. I mean everyone, or there will be debts to be payed. In forms of my liking. - O.G.’ 

“What does he want.”

“I assume to speak about the debut of his show, and how it is to be handled.” Madame Giry tried to smooth the situation. “Everything will be fine. Now we have rehearsals. See you here tonight.” She shuffled her daughter out of the door. All costumes and sets were in the final stage. Blocking was being finalized. Music was memorized long ago. The show was coming together faster than any other show in the history of the opera.

As Midnight drew closer Andre, Firmin, and Madame Giry grew more on edge by the minute. Madame Giry knew him as simply another, very dangerous, and capable human. While both Andre and Firmin were untrained in the art of communicating with the ghost in person. Meg Giry arrived first outside of the door, and waited for her mother. As she approached she started to beg with Meg to leave.

“But he said everyone must be present.” Madame Giry knew better than to challenge both the Phantom and Meg, Sighing in defeat she unlocked the door to the office to find Erik leaning against the circle table. He laughed at how much the elder Giry looked like a mother at this moment. She was ready to scold him. 

“Bonjour Madame.” He kissed her hand then moved on to Meg watching with a now nervous eye. “Et Mademoiselle.” Then kissed her hand. 

“Enough. Erik was is this?” Madame Giry gestured around the room. 

“You will see, Madame.” He walked to Andres chair, sat down, then propped his long legs up on his desk.

“Mademoiselle, do you mind handing me that document.” He spoke to Meg while he gestured to the papers on the table. She knew it, it was a whole contract and deed for the opera. Meg stared at him warningly for a moment before she grabbed it and reached over the desk to hand it to him. Stepping to fall in line with her mother, both managers opened the door as the clock on the mantle chimed Midnight. 

They walked in slowly and caught a glimpse at the figure they only saw once before at the masquerade. Stepping in lightly, they jumped at the ghost voice.

“Care to have a seat? Gentleman?” Five chairs had been placed earlier that day. He stood up and walked quickly to pull out the chair Meg was about to pull out herself as Firmin pulled a chair for Madame Giry. 

Her mother grew worried of course, the close proximity was alarming. She watched Meg look up at him, she couldn’t see her daughter's face. Even if she did, she didn’t know what she wanted to see. Erik took the seat between both couples, Meg and Andre on each side.

He spoke with great confidence and almost right away both Andre and Firmin agreed. Both Giry’s and Erik were surprised at how little they fought for the opera. The deal was hard to refuse, enough to retire comfortably, a box to use anytime, and complete silence and cooperation from the Ghost. As the conversation came to a close Andre spoke out nervously. 

“Why after all this time do you want the opera now?” He regretted it immediately.

“To be completely honest, I never really thought about it. I always wanted to be a secret. As you see me now, I’m not growing any younger. I am tired of the the games.”

‘Where… do we sign?” Firmin piped up. 

“Not yet. I want you to read the contract over, and continue to serve the opera to your full ability until the debut of Don Juan. We will all meet here again just an hour before show time. Signing will happen then.” They took the documents from him. “You may go now.”

Both Andre and Firmin almost ran from the room after bowing to him. They fled to their homes while the Giry’s and Erik were left alone. 

“Be careful. They planned to sabotage you, who says they won't still.” 

“There's a part addressing that in the contract. All will be well, I assure i,t Madame.” Meg watched quietly. She liked this business side of Erik quite a bit. Meg followed her mother out and stood next to Erik as Madame Giry locked the office. She smiled to him behind her mother's back, the look of love left her face as her mother turned to walk her away. 

He followed them without detection as mother and daughter split to their rooms. Meg still returned to her room most nights. She saw Erik everyday still. As she reached her room, Erik grabbed her from behind and held his hand over her mouth. She knew it was him after a few moments of panic. As they heard rustling of ballet girls coming up the stairs after a night of being rowdy, Meg rushed to open the door.

Meg had changed from her rehearsal dress into a normal gown. As he locked the door she began to undress for the night. He watched her take off the outermost layers and hang them up, then came the petticoats and corset. Her bloomers came off, she kept on her chemise. At this time of year she would have changed into a thicker nightgown, but she imagines they’d be close, so it wasn’t necessary. As she undressed he took off the finishing pieces of his ensemble. His shoes, coat, cuffs and cravat. 

“How do you feel? They agreed.” It really sank in after she said that, he would own a place of beauty, a legacy. A solid legacy for the little boy shaking in his mother's home. She sat on her knees on the bed next to him and hugged him. When they broke away she said something he's longed for all his life. 

“I’m proud of you.” He was stunned, he didn’t move for many moments. She searched his face. 

“I-I… Haven’t gotten it yet.” Meg kissed his cheek. 

“That doesn’t matter. You showed yourself, and as a business man. You were wonderful.” Every Time she complimented him he felt even worse every second he wore his mask. So he took it off, still slightly shocked every time because she doesn't flinch. She never has. Meg simply kissed the twisted cheek. 

“Thank you, my love.” He kissed her. Meg exhausted from the long day of running around the opera trying to finishing the show pulled him down so she could lie down. 

“I wish I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d like to actually talk to you today… or more” She groaned at the idea of waking up and dealing with chorus costumes. She’s been going non-stop since plans started. He laughed as he kissed her. 

They laid together and talked lightly until Meg fell asleep in his arms. He undressed even more afterwards and covered them in her duvet. Just before he fell asleep Erik kissed her forehead. 

“Thank you, for everything, dear sweet woman.”


	42. Chapter 42-December 1, 1880-Don Juan, Triumphant indeed!

Meg Giry ran around from class, rehearsals, the costume room, and her dressing room all day in preparation for Don Juan's debut. Fixing costumes and helping with the dancers kept her busy. She sang her parts as she resewed beads, and worked on finishing some blocking plans. Meg didn’t know how she ended up with all the tasks she did, but she didn’t mind. She was making his dream come true. 

“Meg!” Christine called from behind her changing screen, she was putting on her first costume by herself and ripped some of the decoration off. “I’m so sorry Meg!” Meg just smiled and laughed, this was the least of her worries. 

”It’s alright, Christine!” She buttoned up the back and started to sew the top of the skirts decoration back on. “How did you even do this?” Meg giggled as she started the stitches. 

“I was being careless.” As Meg was just a few stitches from being done Madame Giry came into the dressing room.

“Hello, Maman.” She just glanced up, and continued on her way. Madame Giry leaned over her daughter.

“The manager's request a meeting, now.” Meg looked up to her mother, now was the time. She finished quickly and told Christine to finish preparing. 

Meg followed closely behind her mother as she used to. When they entered the room, both Andre and Firmin, their lawyer, and the so called opera ghost were already present. She was still dressed in one of her rehearsal frocks, her red cheeks made Erik want to go and kiss her, but it wasn’t time. 

“This is signed and ready to go.” Andre wanted to slip away to their box and leave their life of running an opera behind. 

“Nothing you wish to change?” He spoke without a single care, Erik had to admit, he liked making those two in particular squirm. 

“No. No, Monsieur. All is more than fair.” 

“If you were to sign this would all be resolved in time for the show.” The lawyer spoke through the tension. Erik made to write his four letter name across the multitude of pages.

“Do you think this is such a good idea?” Madame Giry was very weary of this whole deal.

“Of course, Madame!” Andre and Firmin looked nervous, like Erik fly off the handle and keep them bound in the chains of the opera house. Erik looked up to his once-savior as his tall body leaned over the table, pen in hand. 

“It seems that I have two conflicting opinions. Mademoiselle Giry, what do you think?” Meg wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot in such a manner. She looked around and laughed to start speaking.

“Yes. mademoiselle. Please, enlighten us!” Firmin groaned out in his frustration. She looked to Erik again before speaking.

“Well, this arrangement would solve a lot of our problems. I think it’s best, Maman.” She spoke the truth, it wasn’t to indulge him. The managers wanted out and he wanted in. Why not? 

“That’s it then.” He signed his single initial throughout the whole package, finally coming to the final full signature. Four letters sealed his and Meg's future. 

“Monsieur, your full name please.” Erik paused, was he really expecting to just sign a first name and that be it?

“Of course.” Thinking quickly he went through and extend the lonesome “E” to a “E.G.L.B.” He was a Victorian Frenchman, a long name would be expected in a man. Coming to the very last signature, he paused, this would be the name the woman standing just a few steps away would love him with. 

“Erik Gaston-Louis Beauvais.” He signed in exceptionally frilly writing, he couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of the beginning of the name. “Beau.” The opposite of what he’d call himself. Erik also came up with the middle part on a whim one day. It sounded much more regal that his simple four letters. 

“Well, Monsieur Beauvais, O.G. It seems we, have a deal.” Andre felt odd knowing the name of someone who was once a ghost. 

“Congratulations, we will take our seats now.” Firmin went to usher his business partner away from the office they already cleared of all their personal items. They wanted to never return to the business of opera. So after a few gentlemanly goodbyes Andre, Firmin, and their lawyer left Both Giry’s and Erik alone.

Meg bit down a smile as she watched Erik walk slowly to sit at the turning chair behind what was once Andres desk. Madame Giry sat in a chair by the door facing him, while Meg stood at the other end of the desk. Silence was thick in the air as Erik sat and settled his arms on the desk. Madame Giry looked at the ground, tired from all of the Phantoms trials. 

“You did it.” Meg’s smile widened against her will. “It’s yours.” She spoke softly as she usually did when saying sweet things to him. Right then and there Erik decided he didn’t care about Madame Giry being in the room. 

“Mine.” He laughed at the thought of something so grand being his. Erik began to stand up as he spoke again.

“I have said it more than once, and I will say it again.” After this he began to walk around the desk towards Meg. “I am forever indebted to you. Marguerite Giry.” Erik grabbed her around the waist, picked her up as she let out a yelp, and spun her around as he finished the phrase. “Goddess Among Men.” She didn’t have time to think before he gave her a big kiss. Meg finally moving past the shock separated from him. She Flicked her eyes to her now standing mother, then back to him a few times.

“Right now?” She asked in disbelief, she honestly hadn’t thought about how or when to tell her mother. 

“Meg what is going on?” Meg was at a loss for words, she took a long moment to think until she looked up to Erik for help.

“We met many months ago, we are in love, and intend to marry her.” Erik spoke with feigned confidence to one of the only people on Earth who could scare him.

“Is this true, Meg?” 

“Very much so.” Madame Giry watched them still in each other's arms. Before her mother could speak she came to her senses. “What time is it?” Madame Giry looked at her watch. 

“Forty-five minutes to curtain.” 

“Already?” Meg looked up and back to Erik, unsure what to tell a composer before their debut. 

“I will give you a minute.” Madame Giry walked out without another word, or indication of her feelings to the union.

“You already know what the show looks like-”

“I actually do not.” He cut her off.

“I just hope we do your vision justice.” Meg gave his lips a peck. “You deserve it.” Giving him another, longer kiss she left him. Stopping at the door she turned to him as it was open. “Congratulations.” Meg stepped back as she closed the door.

“Come! We’re going to be late!” Meg walked past her mother, it wasn't until they were about to reach the dressing room doors when Madame Giry grabbed her arm to stop her. Meg looked back with the fear she still carried with her.

“Are you angry with me mother?” She looked as if she could cry. 

“No, my girl. I’m disappointed.”

“Oh mother please, please don’t say that.” Meg feared her mother would try to stop her, she knew they would marry, without her blessing or not.

“I’m disappointed that you felt you couldn’t tell me.” Meg practically tackled her mother. Luckily Madame Giry still had her good balance. 

“I’m so sorry, maman. I do wish I would have told you sooner.” 

“It’s quite alright, Meg.” She kissed her daughter's head. “Now, get in that dressing room.” She turned Meg to toward the door and they went full speed to prepare.


	43. Chapter 43

Both Meg and Christine had to prepare for an highly emotional show. Erik truly did know how to write sorrow. Meg dressed in her first costume, the very first scene was a wedding scene. Between Lucia and Don Juan himself. Covered in a white lace and pink lace, a high comb peineta covered in a mantilla, Meg stood on the middle of the stage back to back with Piangi playing Don Juan. 

The whole show was to start with the curtain down, the first words the whole audience would here are the words “I do.” Sung in a way that was clearly to impress the audience, like a cadenza. No orchestra, just Lucia, then Don, then a chorus of attendees. So there she stood, just a few moments before she was to start the show and they were all in places. 

Piangi and Meg stood back to back while the attendees stood in a curved line around them. A man serving as a priest stood behind them. For a touch of provoking imagery, or what they thought was provoking. Piangi stared into the eyes of Don Juan's right hand man, his highest servant and friend, Passerino. While Meg stared into the eyes of Lucia's virginal lady in waiting Aminta, played by her dear Christine. 

Meg gave Christine a reassuring smile. The younger still felt nervous for what the tonight's opera had in store for her. At this moment, Christine wanted to run to Raoul and finally allow him to take her away like he’s wanted to. Monsieur Reyes apprentice came to the wing to cue Meg in, she heard the audience come to as close to silence as they could get.

“Je fais.” Meg made it as loud, striking, and sweet as possible. Lucia and Aminta were the brightest spots in the darkness of the other costumes and set pieces. The Phantom in his lonesome box lost his breath at the sound of her voice, and the words he wrote. The curtain rose and he saw all the little drawings he saw and did with Meg came to life for all the elite of Paris to see. 

“Our downfalls are at the hands of men.” Meg and Christine sang together over the layers of “I do.” The audience was in awe, the fact that one of the scariest figures in Paris could make such wonder, light sounds. As Lucia and Don Juan were wed the pretty bright sound changed to Don’s Lament. He was no longer a certified bachelor, like the term husband would stop him from bedding whoever he wished. 

Don Juan, a rich nobleman, just over Lucia in status married her for the dowry, political esteem and connections he could make. Many were happy for the union, except for the ones in the union. The men in his little court laughed at the thought of Don belonging to one singular woman. The woman in question, Lucia, was gifted with a healthy male heir soon after marriage, so Don felt no need to stick around. 

It became an understanding that they would only be together for public affairs, and the occasional meal. Years of countless women and good fun followed the couple through the years. As Lucia continued to grow from her young age, so did her ladies in waiting. It wasn’t until their son was three, when Don became aware of Aminta.

Aminta, known for her pretty face, and perfect, untouched purity. Known for being inexperienced, and light. Pinks and flowers adorned her clothing, opposite to the blacks, and jewel tones the little court loved so much. Dear Don, as Lucia so proudly calls him, decided she would be his, no woman could resist him for long. Though Aminta did try her very hardest. Her purity was her identity, without it what would she do. Unmarried, and without prospects. 

As the chase continued on, our male lead somehow convinced himself that no other woman would ever be for him. Aminta, the love of his life. This is where we find Lucia, heartbroken for he was her husband and loved another. Lucia didn’t mind his bevy of lovers, he didn’t love them. Or her. Now she knew he had the ability and it wasn’t for her, she felt like a bird in a cage, slowly losing the will to live. 

The show moved quickly until the scene of Aminta's true downfall. Christine was perfect for the little innocent-seeming minx. His words of love and passion sent her to his bed, past the point of no return. Not only does her downfall pass, but it carried through to all the court. Amintas identity, dissolved in the dark air of the the great lovers bedchamber. 

Just as dear Passarino suspected, the love Dear Don thought he felt, was simply lust. He threw Aminta, now enthralled under the same love as Lucia, away with an awkward thought. After Lucia had learned of his abandonment she made to woo him with her own, real, material love. 

The court refused to let Aminta live her fault down, her reputation, ruined without complete repair. Aminta finished her life with a spiral and mad scene to make Giselle herself cry. Passarino made a deal to wed Aminta, to save her reputation, and political gain with her father, though they did not make it to that point. The first to die was Passerino, in a battle to save the honor of his betrothed. 

The story came closer to an end after Aminta's suicide, and Don Juan “Inexplicable” illness, though many in the audience caught the indecent implications. The show ended with the same curved chorus line and the married couple in the center. Aminta stood across from Passerino, both dressed in white like a ghost. She sung her apologies to the man who’s pursued her for years. Everyone else dressed in darker colors to match the mourning for Don Juan.

Lucia sat downstage with Don Juan draped over her legs. He sang to Lucia the same words as Christine, in harmony. While Passerino and Lucia joined later into the song, forgiving the deeds their lovers had done. The show closed with the quad all saying the same line, the women on one note, the men on another.

“Je t'aime.” Meg cried genuine tears for the story and the moment. The orchestra, Don, and Passerino finished as Lucia and Amintas voice lingered in the air. When they finished the whole auditorium leapt to its feet, women cried into pretty handkerchiefs, and men clapped in awe. The so called Phantoms music moved the Paris elite to bow at his feet. The curtain closed and and the leads walked to the wings for the chorus to bow. 

Carlotta, followed by the man who played Passarino, then Piangi bowed one at a time. When it came time for Christine and Meg to bow, Christine was to go ahead because she didn’t hold a “Prima” in front of her name. Meg grabbed her hand and they went together. They bowed hand in hand, then Meg separated to let her bow and give her love by herself. Christine returned the favor. 

Madame Giry watched Meg blow a kiss directly to box five, as she's seen her daughter do before. Now many occurrences made sense to her. The disappearing for days, the distance to the other ballet girls, everything clicked. They finished their bow and the curtain fell.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was created in tandem with a prompt from Tumblr to use the phrase "Come home with me."

Don Juan Triumphant! A triumphant premiere indeed. Everyone across Paris fought for a ticket to see the great life’s works of the oh-so-famous Opera Ghost who inhabited box five during the shows. The writer, named Erik, that’s all that was printed on the little programs handed to the elite of Paris. They whispered and yelled until just before the curtain rose, whether it would be a masterpiece or a flop.

Tonight he had the elite in the large palm of his hand. First, the love of his life stood by his side as Monsieur Firmin and Andre signed the deed of the opera to him, then he broke the secret to her mother by taking her in his arms and professing his undying love for her. Then without a single yell, the one Meg was so afraid of telling, secretly blesses their union. After hours of waiting for a voice he created to make his life’s work a triumph of the ages, Paris loved her, Paris loved Lucia, Paris loved Don Juan, and Paris loved Erik for the work he had done.

The new Prima ballerina La Marguerite danced and sung for her lover and received every bit of praise she deserved. They were a couple to be reckoned that night. Christine only sung to help catch the man who ruled her life under the name of The Angel of Music, if he had actually tried to sabotage himself. 

 

Having never made contact with him the entire night Christine tricked herself into thinking something more awful and terrifying was to come, even though he did “set her free.” Christine had enough of everything he gave her, glory and horror and all.

Nothing would have ever prepared her for the blow Christine would deliver to Meg this night. Meg always forgot Christine would tackle her after the curtain fell until she was on the floor. This time Christine simply walked with a detached look on her face right past Meg to their dressing room. Meg remembered after she saw the back of Christine's costume walking away. 

In the next moment Meg made the biggest mistake of her life. Meg ran to box five to find the comfort he usually provided for her. At the same time she congratulated her soon to be husband. They sat in the red velvet draped lodge until the auditorium was empty and her mother came to attend the box. She opened her eyes to look at Madame Giry from her spot on his chest.

“Did you see Christine, Maman?” Her mother made to speak but stopped from lack of words.

“Yes, dear.” Madame Giry left the box to speak to the ballet girls for notes. 

“I should go see Christine, I have no idea how she will be.” Meg lifted her head off of his chest. She was so afraid of what she will find when she meets with Christine. Will she find her crying, happy, terrified? She couldn’t just leave her friend without a word. Erik followed secretly behind to wait for her so they could return underground. 

“Christine! You were wonderful!” Meg yelled as she opened the unlocked door. She opened the door to find the room empty. Taking a few more steps in the empty room she spoke her name again, soft and wounded. “Christine?” Meg looked around the dark room only illuminated by a single dim gas-lamp. She first thought maybe Christine left for supper with Raoul. 

“She’s not here, Erik.” Meg called to him from the thinning hall, he entered to find her sad tone matched her melancholy face perfectly. The room didn’t feel right, even to him. Meg noticed the trunk usually kept next to the changing wall on Christine’s side was gone. Meg began to notice how much of the room was gone. Christine’s things on her vanity were gone, her clothes, her dressing gown all gone. Her side was bare compared to Meg’s lush side. Erik noticed much faster than she did. 

“She’s gone.” Her sister, her drifting best friend, finally left her without a word. Meg collapsed in front of the fainting couch the same way she had collapsed when Erik left her after they shared their first intimate moment. The moment he called her a “Goddess Among Men.” For the first time. They didn’t kiss, he only explained his wretched existence, and thanked her for the new life she had given him.

Erik held her for the first time, then he left her her alone in that dressing room, and now Christine left her alone in the very same room. Meg felt as if she had received an almost killing blow, she cried as he held onto her the very same way Christine had when he left her months ago.

Meg pushed away from him and stood up, leaving him on the floor staring at her. She started to become angry at her friend’s departure. Why wouldn’t she say goodbye? Was she that expendable? Picking up the heavy, ornate desk clock, one of the only solitary items left on the vanity. Meg paced with the object in her hand crying and asking every question that popped into her head, fast and angry.

“Marguerite you are scaring me.” he spoke into her madness.

“Am I? She just… she just left. I bet she begged Le Vicomte to take her away, I hope he takes care her.” She huffed then continued pacing. “Why should I care? Without a word she left, she left, she LEFT!” She threw the clock at the large mirror over Christine’s dressing table, hitting dead center some little pieces fell onto the table along with the clock, but most of the mirror just cracked. Meg’s mood changed drastically from anger as she went to pick up the now broken clock.

she received cuts on her hands from the glass around the lovely object and from the glass protecting the face of the clock itself. She picked it up and held it to her chest reverently as Erik hugged her from behind saying sweet words. Meg fell into back onto him and they sunk to the floor. After a few moments he spied a piece of paper on the floor next to the dressing table, he reached for it and saw Christine’s handwriting. The letter must have fallen off in Christine’s rush to leave.

“Meg.” She opened her crying eyes to him handing her the parchment, she took it with her shaking, bloody hands. Her blood spotted the paper, and read it aloud to him.

“Meg Please forgive me. You are not here, and I must go. For my health, for my life, and for my life with Raoul. This opera house holds too many horrible memories for me, and all of the good ones include you. I sung for him one last time, and now I must move on with my love, we are to be married. I want you to be there, but we are leaving the city and are planning to elope. So please know that I want you with me always, but I can’t and I will miss you far too much. This is so hard for me, But I must. I hope one day you can understand why I left so quickly. Know that we will meet again someday, I plan to return to Paris for you. I will love you for all time. Please forgive me, my dancing love.  
-Yours forever, Christine Daae”

It was obviously written in a rush, the word were scribbled, and teardrops decorated the paper with Meg’s blood. Christine’s words hardly soothed her mind. He still held her in his arms. Erik was her grounding force yet again, Meg was an disparaging creature at times, and he seemed to be the only one to keep her on Earth in times of crisis. The only other person to do so was Christine.

“Come home with me.” Meg still returned to her room several floors up most nights even after Erik changed the Louis-Philippe room from its navy interior to one draped in all the pink, golds, and jewel toned finery for Meg. They shared the room when she stayed with him. His home was soon to officially be hers as well, it practically was already. Meg shook her head up and down and he picked her up bridal style from the floor.

“Wait!” Her pointed to the dressing table “I want to write a note for the cleaners.” He walked her closer and leaned down with her in his arms and she laid the clock back onto the pile of glass, grabbed the stack of papers Christine got the paper she wrote her letter on. 

If she hadn’t they would remove the picture of her grief. She laid the note on top of the glass and shifted into his body and wrapped her arms around his neck. Erik walked to the mirror, opened the secret door, and they plunged into the opera house together.


	45. Chapter 45 - Morning after Don Juan and beyond

She woke in his arms hours later after they returned to the Pink room, an odd occurrence because Erik starts to kick when he gets hot, so they've taken to separating as they sleep. Which neither of them had many qualms with, both weren’t the biggest fans of cuddling as they sleep. They do when they just want to hold each other, or just to talk. 

Meg decide a bath was in order and slipped her way from him. She felt off, the feeling was scary. It was familiar, but not in a good way. The last time she felt this way was before she met Erik and after Christine moved to live with Mama Valerius again. The feeling was left her drained of much emotion for hours, even days at time. Meg knew why she felt like this, she kicked the claw foot tub in frustration. 

Christine and Meg had an emotional connection that left them both numb when separated, the feeling would go away after time, but at the beginning both felt it. Thankfully they both had someone to turn to now at this great split. The worst part is neither knew when they would see each other again, or at all. The sound of Megs foot hitting the tub woke Erik up, which is shocking, he was a very heavy sleeper. She crouched down to hold her bare foot and rested her head on the lip of the tub.

“Meg?” Erik spoke to her from the open door. She moved to turn the water on before she looked at him. 

“Join me?” She’s now entered the stage of acting like she was fine. In part she was, Meg went through her emotions quickly. Though, instead of being healed the original hurt would come back in waves, then she’d go through the cycle a few more times until she finally came to terms with the outcome and the fact she couldn’t do much to change them. 

Meg began to swirl soaps into the water. She made a figure eight in the water Erik couldn't move his eyes from. That was, until she began to undress, it was only the short chemise she wore under her costume, but as she did so Erik was struck again at his fortune. Not from the twenty thousand francs a month, not from owning an opera, but from the comfort the woman in front of him had to the just undress before his eyes. Never had he really thought of having a sexual companion, someone who would want that from him. He had only ever thought of the simple, pure, things he could do in public things with a wife. 

Walks on Sundays, lunch at cafes, the spoiling of shopping. Everything he could do to make a wife feel like a queen. Of course he thought of sexual pursuits, but never of Christine, the one she wanted to treat like that living glass doll-bride. When Erik’s mind turned away from Christine, and unintentionally, towards Meg. He fought hard to keep sexual thoughts of her at bay, he was rarely successful in those endeavors. Erik tried to keep those thoughts away for his own sake, he felt their friendship was too special to potentially ruin.

Even before a romantic relationship was established, they touched each other. In little ways. He would carry her sleeping body to her room, she would cling to him in her sleep. Hands would touch while making dinner, or while handing an object to the other. Never did they find the touch out of place, never did they freeze and wonder what it meant. The touches always, felt right, or they never thought of them at all. 

Meg felt that they practically wed that night she begged him to take her in her own room. She dreamt and daydreamed about him touching her, every caress was so much more pleasing than her mind her imagined. Now they touched much more than before. Not just for sexual gratification, but for a level of intimacy they both yearned for. They were wed in every sense of the word except for legally, but that was soon to be remedied. 

“Well?” He finally moved from his spot and did as she asked. After he settled with his long legs bent, Meg sat between them and laid against his chest. He took her long hair and put it over his shoulder. A few minutes after they settled Erik began to hum, low and soft. Meg’s mind almost instantly calmed, she did feel bad that she woke him, but was glad he was with her. She unintentionally started crying, she didn’t even notice until the stream of a tear was halfway to her chin.

The simplicity of resting in a bath with the one you love in the dead of night, something about how the pain she’d feel without him wasn’t present overwhelmed her. Erik didn’t see the tear because his eyes were close, in this state it also made it was quite a surprise when she turned her head and kissed whatever was closest. After she kissed his jaw he opened his eyes lazily and stopped humming.

“Thank you.” She spoke so softly, Meg usually did when they were together. Something about him made her so at peace, she felt no need to be loud. He held her tighter and kissed her temple. 

“No, thank you.” They owed so many thanks to each other, they’d never be able to stop saying it if they really did try to say what was owed. The mood lightened as they helped each other wash their hair. As Meg finished he brought her an actual nightgown. After she actually went through her nighttime routine that helped went with her well kept complexion they found themselves in bed again. 

“Tomorrow is your first full day, Are you nervous?” She wondered out loud after a few minutes of kisses and when Erik was almost asleep again. 

“No I have always been good at business.” Meg slapped her hands over her face and groaned.

“What are we going to do about Aminta. I’m her understudy… But I’m too attached to Lucia.” She groaned again. “I’m being selfish.” 

“I’m sure another girl knows it.” She uncovered her face and turned to look at him.  
“You don’t mind that Christine isn’t here to sing the role you made for her specifically?”

“It was bound to happen. I did not expect her to sing it at all.” 

“Oh.” Meg seemed to be the only one to think Christine wouldn’t run away.

“Look, darling, she sung it once. That is all I wanted after all that time creating her voice. Long ago I wanted her to love me. Now That I love you, and hope that you love me at least a fraction of how much I love you, I just wanted her thanks in one form or another. Her singing Aminta was it. I do not care what she does now.” 

“Alright, my love.” She kissed him, Erik couldn't help but smell her freshly applied lavender salve. That along with the old cream she used routinely was the smell Erik now associated with home. The scent was now embedded with his cologne everywhere in the house by the lake. The lavender reminded him just how much the name Marguerite fit her. The word for Daisy, a beautiful flower, just like her. Marguerite was a Persephone in a garden filled with all lovely things in nature. He was in fact Hades, a man in the underworld of the operas own little sphere. A man who tore her away from the art and her powerful mother above. 

Erik always felt selfish when he thought of her life above, and how much time she spent with him. Meg would scream at him if she knew these thoughts. Without him, Meg genuinely didn’t know where she would be. Probably in some horrid mood, moving day in day out up above. Not living, she knew that for sure.


	46. Chapter 46

The morning after Don Juan's debut, La Marguerite and her fiance, new owner Monsieur Beauvais, dressed in their respective armor. Meg in her dress for class, Erik in full business dress and the half mask. She stepped away from him when she finished tying his cravat, and noticed how boyish he looked. Erik wasn’t afraid of people, especially since he now controlled their lives, even more than he did before. 

He stayed away due to past experiences, and the pure exhaustion that came from dealing with the public. Humans are tiring. Though, now that he owns one of Paris's greatest attractions, he must come to terms with it. Erik had an energy of optimism all around him, he seemed like a boy excited for the first day of school, before he knew the horror. They separated before reaching the mirror, Meg to her dressing room, and Erik to what was now his office. 

As Meg stepped through the mirror to change into her dress for class, she wore one of the beautiful wrapper dresses he had made for her up. She prepared herself for hearing the talk of the ballet girls, chorus members, stagehands, and other staff. When she was done she stared at Christine's empty side of the room. The glass reminded her of the feelings she felt the night before. 

Meg opened one of the double doors and called out for a dresser maid to bring her a large cloth and a bin. No one had come into the room, so the little maid was shocked to see Meg grab the cloth and begin to pile the glass in the cloth. 

“Mademoiselle please, I will do it.” The little woman squeaked, Meg knew she was new, so she took mercy on the girl. 

“No no no, I’ve got it.” She turned to the girl with a smile. The little maid tried to protest but Meg simply asked her to hang the wrapper dress for her. 

 

When she was done Meg rested her hands on the edge of the table and began to silently cry. Just a few moments of this went on before the little maid asked if she was alright.

“Yes dear, You can go.” 

“Alright, Mademoiselle.” She made to leave the room but stopped when she remembered to tell Meg what Madame Giry told her to. “Oh I was told to tell you, there is a meeting on the stage at the next hour.”

“Why?” 

“Oh, you don’t know? The two managers have resigned and we’re meeting the new one!” Meg felt foolish, they hadn’t spoke of how to tell the whole opera of the changes. How would she keep their marriage a secret?

Meg walked with the woman to the stage full of staff, some sitting and standing, some in the seats of the theater. She found her mother atop the stairs used for rehearsals center stage. 

“He asked you to explain, and find a new Aminta.” Megs eye widened and came to terms with the request quickly. Madame Giry handed her a note in his hand explaining what he wanted said. Meg looked around at all the faces she knew so well. Monsieur Phantom, the murderer of one of their own, was now their boss. This could go so many, many different ways. She took a deep breath and asked her mother to smack her cane against the floor.

“Hello, and good morning.” Little replies came from all around her, she heard Little Cecile and Brigette yell a good morning to her. Their sweet faces and bubbly voices gave her confidence, somehow. “As you know, Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin have left us. After months of ruling us, they realized that this business is not for them. I do hope they are taking a nice holiday.” Many giggled, and many blamed the opera ghost. 

“So I bet you are wondering who is now in charge.” Meg heard Erik clear his throat from the orchestra pit. It seems he decided to make an appearance after all. He walked up the stairs to the gasps of all who knew the mask to be apart of the Phantoms persona. “May I welcome Monsieur Beauvais.” She darted her eyes around the room. The horror of his reputation kept everyone quiet, even the man himself was silent. 

He kept his words quick and sincere, Erik knew they had work to do. After the tension lessened little by little he handed the torch back to Meg to find a replacement for Aminta. 

“I am not sure if you noticed, but Mademoiselle Christine Daae has left us as well.” Gasps filled the air as everyone did finally realize. “I am officially, Amintas understudy, but I would rather have another fill the role. If any of you in the chorus, know the part well enough, see me in my dressing room immediately. For the corps de ballet, class is dismissed, if you are in the show, please be at warm ups an hour early to prepare, the rest are off for the rest of the night. Thank you, you are all dismissed.”

Madame Giry and Erik followed Meg to her dressing room. As Meg continued to clean up the mess from the night before La Carlotta opened the door without a knock, Piangi followed close behind.

“YOU!” Carlotta screamed at Erik in all her diva fashion. “The Phantom, here. Showing his face to us, well half of his face..” She really could run her mouth.

“We! Cannot work for you.” Piangi spoke up like the man he tried to be for Carlotta. 

“Then go.” Erik said lazily as he was draped carelessly over the fainting couch, much to the dismay of the stars, Meg had to speak into his ear to tell him they shouldn’t lose them along with Christine. Carlotta gasped at his frank words and spoke shamelessly in Italian to Piangi.

“And you!” Carlotta turned to Meg speaking close to Erik and yelled quickly at her. “Do you live to do befriend my enemies?” 

“Enemies? La Carlotta, we are professionals, either stay as primadonna and sing without a fuss, or be forced from the building. Permanently.” Meg was tired of Carlotta's attitude. The diva shut her mouth quickly and noticed Meg's hand on the Phantoms shoulder, clutching his shirt, Carlotta went through so many emotions very quickly. The diva truly didn’t deserve what was given to her by the Opera Ghost, but she did handle herself like a child. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Carlotta tried to seem cool, and Intimidating as she once was.

“Even if she wouldn’t, I would.” Erik stood much taller than Carlotta at his full height. She shrunk at his form, he was intimidating as always. Turning on the charm quickly he walked to the woman and spoke to her frankly, but in that tone of voice that made people do whatever he wanted.

“Now La Carlotta, we need you and Piangi for Don Juan. Please stay. If not, leave forever, peacefully.” Carlotta turned to Piangi and they spoke quickly in Italian. Erik didn’t much care for the diva but they couldn’t replace three people at one time. He didn’t even try to comprehend what they said, he had a little grasp of the language, but didn’t much care at the time. “So, what do you say?” 

“We will stay, good day.” She said to Erik and Meg, then turned to Madame Giry and said a slightly more pleasant “Good day.” to her then left the room with Piangi doting behind. Meg saw a glimpse of the few young women who claimed to know Aminta, groaning she opened the door and look at them. None of them could live up to Christine, but alas. 

After seeing about ten girls they picked one who could do the role the best, thankfully she was close to Christine in size. Meg set to work of alterations immediately. So the opera changed quickly under new management, a girl from the chorus rose in the ranks and in esteem from Don Juan, Carlotta and Piangi compiled and kept their titles. Through the rest of the month everyone settled into the idea of the Phantom being the boss.


	47. Chapter 47

Day to day life became easier. Of course, Little Jammes and Brigette were still little gossips and came to Meg just days later after the announcement and charged to her in the dressing room, now clear of Christine's furniture, to speculate about the new owner. They knew the Girys were to the Phantom close so they begged for information. 

“Meg! We brought lunch!” They came in as Meg laid on the couch after morning class. They were very energetic girls, just a couple years younger than her. Meg opened the door as they set to work to set up the meal and have a little session of girl talk. Meg kept them close to her, now more than ever. They chatted happily and Meg kept them away from topics of the new owner. 

“Marguerite Giry what is that on your hand?!” As Meg sat on the couch she played the with the ring she now kept on the necklace like Christine did during her secret engagement. When they came in she forgot to put it back onto the necklace, but put it on it’s rightful place on her left ring finger. Little Jammes was a loud and nosy girl, who lived for romance. 

Meg covered the ring quickly with the other hand and tried to deflect the attention onto Brigette who was waiting for answer as eagerly at Little Jammes. Cecile grabbed Meg’s shoulders in excitement. 

“Meg, are you engaged?” The girl in question looked between Cecile and Brigette a few time. “You are! Oh Little Meg please, please, please tell us who! WAIT! Let us guess” Jammes turned to Brigette, and kept her hands on Meg “Who do you think? A patron? The Persian? He’s in town. Monsieur Le Baron who sits in box 10? He’s taken a liking to dear Little Meg.” 

“Oh Meg tell us who!” Brigette gave up trying to think and begged her finally. She knew she couldn’t keep it a secret for long. They planned to be married by the end of the month. How would she conceal it then, not that she wanted to. If she was getting married, it would be known. 

“If I tell you, you must agree to not say a word until after the ceremony.”

“We swear!” Both girls held up their left hand and put their right hand over their heart.

“Good because if you say a word to anyone but me, you will be fired.” 

“You can’t fire us.” Little Jammes giggled, she wasn’t trying to be difficult, she was just trying to be playful. 

“I can if I’m marrying Monsieur Beauvais!” Both girls who were resting up on their knees sat back with wide eyes. “And my mother is the ballet mistress.” The two sat wide eyed and stared at her for much longer than Meg would have liked. 

“But Meg, He hasn’t even owned the opera for a month.” Jammes in the past would have thought this romantic, but she was worried for Meg.

“And he’s obsessed with Christine Daae.” Brigette cut in only to have Jammes to give her a look that told her to stop talking.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?”

“Seeing as though we’ve been engaged since early October, no. It’s not too early.”

“October!?” Both of them yelled. “Meg how have you kept this a secret for so long?!” Jammes continued. 

 

“It wasn’t very hard, We’re in love, there wasn't a need to tell anyone else. If it makes you feel any better my mother didn't know until just an hour before Don Juan debuted, and Christine still doesn’t know.” Meg looked to where Christine's dressing table used to rest. “I don’t think she will for a very long time, if ever.” Meg began to eat again as both girls took in the new information.

“I’m happy for you Meg, you deserve happiness.” Brigette piped up just after she started eating again. 

“You are happy? With him?” Jammes wondered. They searched Meg's face, the face they saw so much wisdom, happiness, and loneliness on for so many years of their lives. Meg looked at them, with warm eyes and sense of bliss they hadn’t seen in so long.

“I am very happy, truly.” Meg sat up on her knees and kissed each off their cheeks. “Thank you for asking, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She paused then laughed a little. “And I won’t have to find out unless you speak about this to anyone. I mean it, I don’t want to be apart of the little gossip, and I don’t want people thinking I'm Prima Ballerina because of him. Because I’m not.” 

They came to her just a few days later in private to ask if they could actually be at the wedding. Meg said she’d let them know when she had more information. Really the only details they had was a dress in production by the sweet seamstress that made his cloak and the masquerade costumes, and the fact that they wanted to be married as soon as possible.


	48. Chapter 48

Little Jammes and Brigette dragged Meg out of the opera to buy gifts for Christmas, not many people in the company were very religious, but they did like the excuse to exchange gifts. The ballet girls loved to decorate their dressing rooms and truly got into the festive spirit. One thing Meg dreaded about Christmas was the fact that Meg was simply dreadful at picking gifts for people. The cloak Meg gave Erik was simply luck on her part. 

Erik was the type of man to acquire whatever he wanted, it’s not like he openly longed for any items. He liked music, but what didn’t he have in his collection. They ended up in a little shop for Cecile to get something for her brother. Cecile’s whole family worked in the opera, her mother was a member of the singers chorus practically all her life, while both her father and brother were stagehands. 

Meg found a little something for her mother and for the two girls she was with. It was odd not going to get Christine something. She even had an idea for Christine. This pretty collapsible fan she saw while shopping for her dressing table set. One of the workers in the shop was wrapping the gift Cecile bought when Brigette walked over to Meg.

“What are you getting for Monsieur Beauvais? Hmm?” Brigette in an attempt to be a little saucy bumped her hip onto Megs. 

“I don’t know.” Just then she saw a deep cobalt cravat with a striped pattern that could be seen when moving in the light settled into a display box with a pin settled into cloth, then a set of cuff-links sat underneath. The straight pin looked like a little sword from the handle a chain connected to another pin with a gold sphere at the top. The cuff-links featured blue cushion shaped stones matching the cravat wrapped in a gold setting. As the man wrapped the box up he asked for his name.

“Erik.” Meg told him quickly. “With a K.” She added to make sure it was spelled right. Both younger girls were a little stunned to know the grand Opera Ghosts first name. If you had told them that the Phantom would be their boss and Little Girys fiance a year ago they’d laugh in your face, then tremble at the thought.

“Erik? That’s not very French.” Little Jammes said, sometimes she spoke without thinking, then deeply regretted it. Meg couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the thought of Erik being anything but a Frenchman. He is romantic, he loves art, he is dramatic. It was practically impossible for him to be anything else. 

“Yes, but trust me, he is definitely a Frenchman.” She winked at them, something about being with her ballet girls made her a complete flirt. Little Jammes had to take a moment to think about what Meg had just said. Cecile turned to Brigette, who simply shrugged her shoulders with wide eyes. 

They left to return home to the grand opera. The city of Paris had cooled much over the month, as they approached Christmas and the New Year quickly. Meg went straight to Eriks office after giving the gift boxes to a page to put in her dressing room. Before the manager's office, there was a waiting room with a secretary-page before the double doors of his office. She greeted the lonesome young man, he was a new, and very nervous man. Erik did like that he kept to himself, and he did his work well so it all worked out. Meg and asked him if Erik was in a meeting as she began to take off her gloves. 

“Hello!” Meg opened the door and ran to him for some type of warmth, the opera was freezing in the winter since it was such a large building. The large furnaces did their best. Unfortunately for her had forgotten her shawl all the way in her room upstairs. Meg went to put her cold hands on his neck to warm them up, and to tease him. When she did so Meg started to fake cry.

“I forgot that you’re cold!” She whined and snuggled her face into his chest then slid her hands to unbutton his jacket and slid her hands around his waist. 

“I am sorry, dear.” She giggled into his chest.

“What are you working on?” She leaned against the desk just next to his chair. Erik lifted her up by the waist and sat her on the desk then sat back down in the dark green turning chair. 

“Trying to convince myself to read more reviews of Don Juan.” So many had been wonderful, but of course there was the occasional ill intended review. 

“Would you like me to do it?” He handed her the paper and Meg read the only one off. Nothing but good words were said about his creation. “See? Nothing to worry about, Don Juan Triumphant is a wonderful show and it is well loved.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No problem, love. I simply speak the truth!” He settled all the way back into the chair with a smile and stared into her eyes in a way that made her swoon on sight. Erik watched as her breathing became shallower and the smile on her face turn to a little smirk. “How is that you always look so captivating?” The way she blushed in his presence made him want to say the same to her. His smile only grew more wicked. Erik then bent over her with both of his hands on either side of her.

“How is it that you always make me want to captivate you?” He spoke as he stared at her lips. She sighed like the woman in love that she was, Erik then met her lips in a passionate kiss. Meg unintentionally ran her legs up his own tall ones. Her casual small bustle and full petticoat-ed dress had come up high on her lap. She held him close by the neck, the mask in her hand rubbed against his neck like it usually nice in a passionate embrace like they were presently in. 

She refused to be intimate like that with him and have that piece pressing against her skin. The mask was a shield from the world and she didn’t like for him to keep things from her. Of course when they shared quick pecks in front of The Daroga or her mother she wouldn’t take it off. It was when they were alone, she would hold it in the fingers of one hand, while the other either pull and play with his collar or his hair. 

He clutched at her blouse and moved another hand to hold her neck. Erik eventually traveled with his kisses to her jaw. As he made his way down her neck as her tall day blouse would let him, she moaned making him run his hand to the top few buttons of her blouse and unbuttoned a few. He then ran his hand over her breast and continued to wrap that arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him with a little gasp from her. Meg was pulled from her daze by a knock on the door, she pushed him away to make him realize as well. 

“Yes?” Erik yelled angrily to the unsuspecting person behind the door. Meg already started buttoning her shirt when his page announced himself.

“I have an urgent letter for Mademoiselle Giry.” She nodded to him to make him let the poor young man in. Meg panicked and secretly hope it would be a letter from Christine.

“Come in.” He yelled when she was done buttoning her blouse. She stayed on the desk but turned around to the door making her turn with her leg resting on the desk. The bumbling young man blushed at Eriks tone and Megs form sitting on the desk. After he handed her the letter, and her thanks, he swiftly left the room. 

“One was also left for your mother. Would you like me to take it to her or would you like to keep it with you?”

“To her directly please.”After he handed her the letter, and her receiving her direction and thanks, he swiftly left the room. She flipped the letter over to read the name of La Sorelli. With a furrowed brow she opened the pearly white wax seal imprinted with a swan as Erik sat back into the chair again. A little note sat against official thick invitation paper, made to read that first. 

“I do hope you can make it dear Little La Marguerite! See I told you you were to be invited.” The official paper was an initiation to the wedding of the year. The former Opera Populaires La Sorelli and Le Comte, Philippe De Chagny. She was given a RSVP card to send back with the number of attendees accompanying her. 

Meg made to write back immediately and wondered whether or not if she could bring Erik. They hadn’t met him apart from being the ghost, but the date wasn't for another four months, she did hope they would be wed before then. So she wrote her thanks and applied a plus one for her love.

“Plus one? Didn’t your mother get one?” She stopped and looked at him with a little hurt showing in her eyes.

“You don’t wish to come with me?” 

“I was not aware I would be welcome.”

“Of course you are welcome, you will be my husband by then. I can take you off but I do wish for you to come with me.” 

“I would love to.” She smiled like a young girl getting her way. Well, she was a young woman, but that is besides the point. Erik loved the smiles she made when she was excited, especially when he had a part in her happiness. Every smile Meg showed him made him want to give her a thousand more. She was dazzling with a sparkle in her eye and look for too beautiful for a wretch like him. A little fool she was for staying with him, but if she was a fool, Meg was Erik’s little fool.


	49. Chapter 49 - December 31, 1880

The seamstress called Meg to her shop for a fitting, little did Meg know it was finished and if she was happy, she could take it home. Madame Lully covered the mirror in the room as she put the full dress on her, everything was perfectly tailored from the last fitting, then extra details were were added at her liberty. Of course it was everything Meg had come to her with in a design and more.

Meg came running into his office on December thirty-first with a big box tied with a ribbon in her arms. Erik was reading some document for the nights New Years party. She thanked her timing for not catching him in a meeting. He set it down as she ran to him, kissed his cheek, then hopped up to sat on his tall desk.

“Guess what I have?” 

“Your dress?” She nodded her head quickly as she placed the box over his papers then leaned down to actually kiss his lips. 

“She called me for a fitting to surprise me, it’s so lovely, Erik.” She was practically bouncing as she started to pull off her gloves. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We must set a date soon!” Erik stood and kissed her after she finished and 

“Today?” He broke away from her slightly and searched her face for an answer.

“Really? It’s not too late, We can do it today?” Meg was somehow beaming even more than just a few moments before. 

“I can find a notary and we could be married within a few hours. What do you say?" He paused with a face that looked so scared, like Meg would ever tell him no. "Marry me today?” 

“Yes!" She nodded her head quickly, her blond hair Forever and always, my love!” She echoed those words from the first proposal once again. He swept her up into a big kiss to beat any one seen in a great opera-romance. She still sat on his desk, now in the center of the room, the other desk sat somewhere in opera storage. They continued until their was a knock on the door. 

“Who is it?” Erik relaxed when it was Madame Giry calling from the other side. “Come in.” She entered to find them still very close to each other. Madame Giry was forced very quickly to be comfortable with the close contact they shared. She didn’t know the extent of their relationship as a whole, but she knew much of what they’ve been through together. Meg ran to her mother and hugged her after kissing her cheek as usual. 

“We’re getting married!”

“I know, my girl.” Madame Giry laughed as she kissed her daughter's forehead.

“No we're getting married today! I just brought my dress home.” She turned her head to the box.

“Congratulations, dear. Can it be done before the party?” Meg was positively beaming, her mother smiled at her bouncing waves and curls.

“I know who can marry us, all we need is witnesses. Which will be easy you, and from what I’ve heard Cecile Jammes and Brigette Divisme want to attend.” Erik said while leaning against his tall tall desk.

“What about, Nadir?” 

“What about… Nadir?” He said with a little disdainful, the Daroga wasn't necessarily what he’d call a friend. 

“He’s been nothing but kind to us, and he considers you a friend, I think you should return the favor. Invite him.”

They split for Erik to run some errands and for Meg to prepare in her dressing room. She sent a page to find Cecile and Brigette. When they came to her she told them to dress in their nice clothes for the gala. Not costumes like the masquerade, but pretty evening gowns. Each ballet and chorus member had at least one for parties. 

The New Year's party was for the staff and patrons alike, to give them a chance to be social and do some casual business. It was another reason to become a patron of the Opera Populaire, lavish parties. Monsieur Beauvais, of course, spared no expense. The party would be as grand as ever. A happy night for all. 

Erik sent a page to tell Meg they were ready for her, it was just about an hour before guests would arrive. With her mother's help she was dressed and veiled, she might not have a church wedding but she would have a veil. She didn’t let it fall in front of her face, but laid it to cascaded down her hair, set with more curls and waves than usual. 

She walked from her dressing room to the office they would quickly wed in with Madame Giry doing what she never did. Her mother cooed over her daughter and showered her with compliments. A compliment, Something Meg hardly ever hear from her mother. Madame Giry kept her good words sparse, to make so when she did actually gave them, they would mean so much more. 

They only saw some cleaning staff on the way back to his office. Meg entered last, holding a simple wedding bouquet of greenhouse flowers Cecile scoped from around the highly decorated foyer. Meg saw a man she didn’t know, but assumed was the notary, The Daroga and his assistant Darius, and of course, her mother, Little Cecile, and Brigette, the girls who deemed themselves bridesmaids. Erik went directly to her.

“No words could describe you at this moment.” He spoke quietly but Cecile and Brigette of course heard and giggled at the intimate moment. Meg turned to them with a smile.

“You look so handsome, simply divine, my love.” She looked him over. Erik had changed from his simpler day suit to his nicest evening suit. He fit the high standard of a person of nobility, like the men who would fill his opera in just a few minutes time. Erik wore the cobalt blue cravat she had given him just days ago for Christmas. In a stroke of sentiment, instead of the pin she gave him, he wore pin that she took from his cravat the night they wed in every sense but legal. 

Meg knew she wasn’t going to have the normal morning church ceremony, so instead of designing a large bustle gown with a high neckline and long sleeves, she requested what was essentially an evening gown. A low sweetheart neckline that extended to show the tops of her shoulders. The short sleeves had a layer of lace in pieces to flow around her arms like gossamer. The almost straight across neckline was covered in false flowers like baby's breath and little pink buds. 

The bodice was well tailored and the panels seams were exaggerated to show the sharp tailoring, the look really emphasized the shape. She decided to stay away from the typical shape as skirts for the fashions of the year. Instead of the very column like style, she kept it very light and lacy. The fabrics draped around her in a very meticulously lazy style. She looked as bright as her physical appearance always gave a glimpse of. 

The air around the couple was graceful, and loving as Erik led her to the man who was eager to marry the lovers. As their friends watched happily at the quick ceremony Megs happiness did falter once, just once at the beginning when the man said a thank you to the friends in attendance. Meg was painfully made aware of the fact that her dearest friend was indeed missing and unaware of her happiness.


	50. Chapter 50

Something neither Christine or Raoul would know for what could be forever, or just a few years, was the unknown parallel of their marriage to Meg’s very quiet marriage to Erik. Both couples married quickly and with little attendance. The biggest difference in their unions was the fact that Meg knew Christine was to be married, and Christine did not know Meg was to be married. One sent best wishes to the other, while the other simply wondered about the others safety in Paris.

They both wed in dark colored rooms, both in happiness, and in complete love. Christine married her Vicomte on a ship to Sweden with Mama Valerius in the happiest of spirits sitting in a wheelchair just steps away. She felt that the weight of the opera that crushed her soul was free from her shoulders when she finally kissed Raoul as his wife. Protected, and somehow free. Sweden would be their home, for now, but home. 

Raoul finally won his childhood sweetheart, he saved her from the horrors of her life, loneliness, and the so called Phantom. Of course Christine still looked at shadows with shifty eyes and prayed to her father to keep her safe, to keep her and Raoul away from the terrors of their past lives. Christine still longed to sing, so in the month of being a newlywed she found a teacher, to prepare her to sing in the public again. 

They were moving on, Christine already felt so much better, so much healthier than before. She felt so good that she even took to her new traveling writing desk that sat on a little table by a window and wrote Meg's name and the address of the opera on an envelope. Christine set paper on the desk and prepare to write. 

Christine finally paused to think of Meg, she kept thoughts of her away all month long. Thinking of Meg brought shame to her, she left without a true spoken word, and only left an awful scribbled note. She genuinely thought Meg would wouldn't want to hear from her again. How wrong she was. 

Meg pushed aside the hurt of Christine's absence to bring herself back to the love of her life. The man who once gave her so much pain, and now so much pleasure. They married swiftly and Erik spared no time kissing her beautiful lips. Meg and Erik took turns leaning over his desk to sign the document that would give them the final, legal connection. 

Erik spoke into her ear to tell her he loved her as Meg signed her maiden name on the document. She little closed smile became even bigger than before. She was dazzling and looked over the moon as Erik signed his new name just next to hers. The official witnesses, her mother and The Daroga, looked at the newly married couple with intense pride. 

Erik kept Meg close as they all chatted lightly and the attendees gave congratulations and the couple gave thanks. The notary took the document away to file it officially, when the door closed Erik picked Meg up and spun her around, she screamed and laughed with delight. When he set her down he kissed her similarly to when he finally acquired the opera. 

“Meg we’re so happy for you.” Brigette came up to her as sweet as ever. The little black haired girl he had never been to a wedding, and she decided right then that she loved them. They all started the party by toasting to a new life for the Beauvais’s and the Opera Populaire. After some time a page came to alert Monsieur Beauvais that guests were steadily arriving. 

“We will leave you two alone for a while.” She turned from mother of the bride to Maman Madame Giry quickly as she finished. “Don’t be too long, you two must play host.” Madame Giry told her daughter and now son-in-law, then led the rest of the guests out and into the party filled with food, drinks, colorful decor, and lavish music. Erik held her body to his and kissed her temple in the new-found silence. 

“Thank you.” He repeated himself over and over as he kissed her hands and all over her exposed skin. Whenever he did this Meg's mind would cloud and she was virtually speechless. She moaned softly.

“Not now, or I won’t be able to stop.” Erik hesitantly stepped away from her and brought both her hands up to kiss them. He mirrored the style he used the first time he kissed her lovely hands. Knuckle to knuckle, back of hand to the other, finger to finger, palm to palm. She finally cried because this time, she could reach up and kiss his lips. Love him openly and without fear. 

“My living bride, my love, my love, my love.” He kept kissing her hands through his words. Meg cried happy, happy tears. Erik made her feelings soar. What a life they would live, together. 

“And your living bride loves you, so very much” She spoke softly then found his lips, they clung to each other like the other would disappear any second.

She broke away with happy laughs and rested her forehead against his lips. Everything she could ever need and long for was with her now. Love. Simple and so very strong. Two very lonely souls, found each other finally. Many would say She saved Erik from a life of obsession and crime, this was true, but what so many didn’t know, was the fact that Erik saved Meg from a life of so much sorrow.


End file.
